Baby Bone Lullaby
by P.A.W.07
Summary: Soundwave decided to strike out at Optimus and Sentinel got in the way. The Con had never realized how different he was from Cybertronians and decided to experiment with the extra 'bits'. Now Sentinel never wants Optimus, anyone, to know what happened that night in the Con's clutches. It is a manner of honor and he'll try to suffer the consequences alone.Censored. Mpreg. SP/OP. TFA
1. Prequel

Baby Bone Lullaby: Soundwave decided to strike out at Optimus and Sentinel got in the way. He had never realized how different he was from Cybertronian mechs and decided to experiment with the extra parts. Now, Sentinel never wants Optimus, anyone, to know what happened that night the con's clutches… it is a manner of honor. Censored for this site. SP/OP. TFA.

Rating: M … though there is a **MA version**. Follow the links on the profile page.

…

You stole my light, my pride, my sight,

And now I want forever to hide my plight.

Yet, no matter how soft or how kind,

To IT I will always sing a sad lullaby.

…

They were supposed to be catching Wasp not a … juiced up stereo with legs. Not that it mattered now, the two of them chained to the ceiling, systems out of sync because of some sonics the visored mech had thrown their way. Sentinel Prime's internal systems still felt … scrambled and his equilibrium was all but gone causing him to be as weak as a sparkling. A disconcerting feeling that stirred the contents of his tank with worry, yet he wanted to keep his fear well masked and so resisted the urge to release his tanks right there.

He didn't want to look weak. Not in front of Optimus. He was the superior officer after all, and Elite regulations told him that panicking was the worst thing to do in a captive situation. And Sentinel had always prided himself for being a stickler for the rules. Besides, he would never let Optimus think he was stronger than him. He was stronger than that glory hound, that _coward_.

He wouldn't have let her die…

At least that was what he dreamed of whenever he thought of the fire truck. Dreams were rare already for a transformer, but his dreams… were always of her, reaching for him, crying out for him as she fell.

_Elita…_

Shaking his head, hating how being around Optimus was bring forward old agonies, Sentinel shook his head to regain some equilibrium. She was deactivated after all and so should his want for her. He needed new dreams and new wants. Like … like… He would be Magnus. Yes, that was his longing now. It was his to-be lover, especially when it was something that could not die. A title cannot be lost or hurt. Just tarnished and traded.

A secret part of him thought of that goal as his only purpose. It would be his love.

It would bury that old hurt as well as the thought of the bonding ring in his sub space that he could never take out. He had bought it for her shortly before the incident, waiting to ask her to be his until after they graduated.

A day that never came.

He was going to be sick.

"Your tank bothering you? Mine sure is after that … sound weapon," murmured Optimus, energon pooling down the side of his head from a wound as he stared at the strangely silent superior. He hadn't gone down as easily as Sentinel had because he had dealt with Soundwave before, and was beaten down later for it.

Sentinel glared, recalling the battle. From what he was able to witness, Optimus knew the attacker… calling him Soundwave or something. As usual, it was Optimus' fault.

Though he hadn't been as cowardly as he was with the spiders.

_I want to hate him! _

But no, that was wrong. He was a superior officer and had an honor code. Therefore, an officer obeyed the rules and a loyal Autobot couldn't think that way.

Though those kinds of thoughts were always there, spitting out of his vocals like venom in taunting little phrases here or there.

Dimming his optics, protecting his pride because he would never just be a lowly construction-bot like his father … like Optimus was now, Sentinel glared for a moment and grumbled, "My tank isn't bothering me. My equilibrium system may be damaged otherwise I would already have us out of here!"

Optimus frowned and pulled at the chains that had him hanging off the floor by a few inches, his peds twitching as he struggled to touch the ground and get some leverage.

Glaring at the chains around his wrist for a moment, he murmured, "I'm _sure_ you would have, but since you can't… help me think of a way out of this. Soundwave was a little weird this time and I don't want to know what he has planned."

Raising a metallic brow, Sentinel was almost afraid to know what Optimus considered weird but found himself asking anyway, "What do you mean by weird?"

Tugging on his chains as he tried swinging, Optimus grunted, "Well, he said something about _Soundwave will be superior_ and not _is_… like he would usually say. He then tried plugging into my systems by bashing my head into the cement a few times and sticking a _tentacle_ … ugh … thing under my helm. My virus systems were saying he was trying to get to my schematics."

Sentinel's optics went wide and he found himself barking, "What! Which schematics! Those are planet secrets, Optimus! You could be labeled a traitor if you gave those away!"

Giving a pointed look, the fire truck murmured, "I didn't give him anything. He took them, I think. I … passed out."

"You what! You don't even know what he specifically took!" yelled Sentinel, not wanting his name to be associated with the mech that revealed Autobot secrets like some kind of saboteur.

Finally looking a little bit angry at the accusations, Prime barked back, "At least I fought harder than you! You were out after the first minute!"

"Are you saying my melee skills aren't up to par!?"

"Yes! Yes, I am saying that!"

"Oh, I'll have you court-martialed for insulting a superior officer!"

"The only thing superior about you is your bad attitude, Sentinel. You have always been a jerk, but you knew when to lay off. Now lay off! Before Elita deactivated you_… what's that_?"

Optimus suddenly went still, his head jerking to the left and revealing the ghastly truth of what Soundwave had done. Sentinel's rage was deflated for a moment at the gore as he shrank back at the sight. Something was _still_ attached to the other's helm, like a radio transmitter or something. That didn't stop him from barking though, Elita's name pressing at his mind "What where you going to say! Out with it, Optimus! And what is that thing attached to your helm?"

Optimus turned to glare at the loud mouth Prime and murmured, "Quiet, I heard something?"

"Oh, don't try to get out of this! I was talking to you! What were you saying about Elita!"

"Loudmouth: annoying," came a staticy robotic voice as a blue and bulky form wandered out of the shadows to look over the two of them as if both the Primes were little more than hanging meat.

Sentinel glowered at the intruder and Optimus frowned, the latter murmuring, "Soundwave, why are we here? What do you want with us? Let us go!"

The mech tilted his head and came forward. Staring for a moment before he slowly reached a hand forward, running his hand over Optimus' jaw and making the mech jerk back. Soundwave merely stood there in front of the two undeterred though, staring at the energon that was now on his hands which had come off of the … implantation. The blue mech frowned behind his visor as he stared at the blue glow of Optimus' energon. He knew all too well that _his_ fluids were not the same color and that bothered him.

Bringing his hand down, he said with the same toneless voice, "Knowledge: required. Structure is superior, rust-less and timeless."

Optimus' optics widened. Seeing the Con in the light for the first time now … he noticed there were red patches on his armor, probably from hiding out in the sewers. It was rust. He must not have been made very well and though the rust was minor, it seemed far to accelerated from being down in this wet place.

In fact it was so accelerated; it was like it was a disease or a chemical he had gotten into. He was made of soft earth materials after all, originally a child's toy and not Cybertronian metals that could last a millennia, so it really shouldn't have been that much of a surprise.

Regardless of the initial shock from Optimus, Sentinel seemed to realize what was going on without Optimus having to clarify, barking, "Frag, no! We are not going to give a known criminal our schematics or metal! I don't care if he's dying. It's against regulation and _we_ won't tell you anything… though if you surrender yourself and release us, medical care is offered to all prisoners. So, release us!"

Looking at the loud mouth for only a moment, the musical menace turned his attention to Optimus and murmured, "Initial statement: inaccurate. Not _we_… Optimus Prime will help me. He will help me disassemble his structure and then I will rip into you."

Optimus recoiled at the thought, barking, "What! I will not bare my circuitry to you!"

Red visor glowing for a moment and Con reached towards Optimus, said Autobot pulling his head back though he was completely unsuccessful in getting away, Soundwave tapped the small receiver now attached to the other's helm and murmured, "Yes you will."

Sentinel could only watch in fear and helplessness as Optimus suddenly withered like a switch had been flicked. And the blue Prime didn't know if he should be more afraid of whatever the Con was now doing to Optimus or how that mech was undoubtedly staring at him behind that visor.

Not that it mattered, because a moment later Optimus stopped withering like his mother board was no longer being barbecued anymore and turned a dull almost passive gaze to Soundwave, murmuring, "What do you require of me, _Master_?"

With a suddenly hammering spark, Sentinel then watched as the Con walked over to a nearby wall and loosened the chain suspending Optimus off the ground. The red Prime fell to his feet with an uneasy balance, still dazed looking. He didn't even twitch or strike out when the cuffs around his wrists were removed and fell slowly to the floor.

Then with calm hands Soundwave started touching the side of Optimus' helm again, almost longingly feeling the metal of the other's face as the Autobot stared with a dead gaze at a nearby wall to the concrete underground… most likely a room once belonging to the subways or sewers.

Feeling a slight protectiveness, his mind telling him it was because he was a commanding officer and not because they were old friends, Sentinel barked, "What the pit did you do to him! You … stop touching him! Don't you dare touch a circuit in his body or you will fall under the full punishment of the Autobot's law!"

The petting suddenly stopped and then … the visor turned to Sentinel, murmuring, "Silence: It will be obtained either way. If you tell me or if I have to take both of you apart."

Puffing his chest out as well as he could while hanging there like a piece of meat on a hook, tugging on his chains again as he swung slightly, Sentinel barked, "Frag you! I'm not a traitor or a weakling! Whatever you did to Optimus Prime won't work on my CPU! I have more security in mine then the glorified repair-bot!"

The sound-mech was about to retort but stalled. He didn't know that word, frag, and if he was going to successfully infiltrate the Autobot ranks in order to get ahold of that key or a shard of the Allspark in order to get a spark, he had to know at least basic jargon. Turning to the dead-opticed Prime, Soundwave asked, "Optimus: What is frag?"

Sentinel couldn't stop the blush on his metallic cheeks as mind-zombie Optimus, who was now sitting on the floor looking up at the blue mech with pouty lips, stated in an airy voice, "It's a way for mechs and femmes to pleasure each other and to make a carried Cybertron, also known as sparklings. It is used as a flexible insult as well."

The earth-made mech looked confused at the first side of the definition, murmuring in a softer tone than usual, "Inquiry: How do they pleasure?"

Blinking his half lit optics, the Prime continued, answering his capturer, "Well, one uses their port and spikes, femmes only have ports while mech's have both a spike and a _port. _Said parts are then used to interlock, arose and exchange fluids. The pressing of sparks, spark rubbing, with this giving of transfluid, or nanites, into a port can then make a valve taken mech or femme spark and be with sparkling. When that happens, they are called Heavy."

Visor becoming bright, his mind wanting to know all it could about the body it would soon own if everything went right, asked, "Sparkling?"

"The equivalent of a baby," answered the Prime as if knowing that dead tone was a question.

Still confused, the Con waved his hand over Optimus' body unsure of where the equipment was even located as he asked, "Command: show me… On him."

"What!" squawked Sentinel, a new fighting vigor in his still sluggish systems, "No! No! No! I am a femme kind of mech. I do not _do_ other mechs and especially don't have other mechs do me! Optimus! As your commanding officer I demand you stop taking your cod piece off right now and stop this!"

"Silence," said the monotone voice that echoed through Sentinel like a volt of electricity causing the cocky mech to snap his mouth shut for a minute… fear suddenly seeding in his spark. This… this was getting really dangerous. He was helpless and disoriented and Optimus was … a zombie.

He had had better days.

Nodding to Optimus, the intrigued earth-mech turned back to his pet and asked, "How … does one start?"

Optics still white, cod piece falling to the floor, Optimus replied, "Foreplay, which is the touching of other mechs or femmes to get them aroused, especially the valve barer that will be penetrated. They must be wet so it doesn't hurt and so that friction is easily created."

Sentinel didn't like Soundwave's next words at all, "Start: Get the other Prime wet."

Voice still struggling to gain its usual vigor, the usually confident Autobot blubbered, "N-no. I'll-I'll fuck Optimus' valve! D-don't let him touch mine! I-In fact, I-I demand that no one frags. Can't you just try to kill us like a normal Con?"

Soundwave stared at the blue Prime for a moment and then, dully replied, "I am not a normal Con. Optimus Prime: Obey."

"What! I said no!" squeaked Sentinel. "You can't do this!"

Cocking his head as if confused, Soundwave stated, "Request: Denied."

…

Sentinel was sure it was someone else this had happened to.

He was sure it was someone else that Optimus had taken over and over again, even when their two spark melded together and for a moment made the whole horrible scenario feel like a lover's game… he had believed it was someone else that had been chained and bound and … raped.

But as he lay there on the floor, chains loosely bound for Optimus had been on top of him, his mind was vaguely aware he was covered in fluids and his equipment hurt and … and Optimus' mind control device had shorted out because of the spark overload. Soundwave was currently leaning over the other Prime trying to fix the other to continue his game… Sentinel had been forgotten.

Unfortunately for the Con, his back was now turned to Sentinel and the charge … had reset some of his systems, the helm injury and the sound attack now merely making the blue Prime numb … but not numb enough to waste a given chance for escape.

Not wasting another moment, hate and fear pushing him, Sentinel sat up and grabbed his loose restraints throwing them around the Con's neck.

The earth model barked in surprise as they both fell back and with quick reflexes the musician elbowed Sentinel in the chassis, aiming for the open spark chamber and barely missing. Grunting in surprise, struggling with slow systems, Sentinel was able to get his chassis closed, but the distraction had done its damaged and suddenly Soundwave was straddling the slightly larger Prime … hands reaching forward and around Sentinel's neck, cutting off the tubing that brought energon to his helm and hard drive.

Sentinel sputtered, hands reaching towards those thick blue fingers around his throat, but Soundwave's grip was too sure and he couldn't rely on his training to slam his palm into the other's face because the chains may have been loose but where not that long. He wouldn't even be able to try and poke out the other's visor!

He was … going to deactivate and if Optimus got out of here … everyone would know that he died weak and pathetic like a raped femme.

He would be dishonored in deactivation as an Elite Guard.

They probably wouldn't even lay his body to rest in the Elite catacombs.

No… that was too much to bear. He was already defiled… he would not die remembered only for that and no other great feats. He hadn't even been in a great battle yet while Optimus… apparently had.

Rage suddenly bubbling forth, optics searching for anything, everything… he saw his chance. A stone. A simple stone.

He didn't waste a moment grabbing it and slamming it into the other's neck. The other grunted, rolling off … and after that. Sentinel didn't recall his training, his honor and the rules of an Elite. He just saw someone else slamming that stone into the blue Con's helm. And they couldn't stop.

They just kept smashing and smashing and smashing, fluids slowly covering their hands.

They…

No, no. This was him again. _H-he_ couldn't stop himself from pounding that mech's helm into the cement when the stone had crumbled into rubble, even when the Con's limbs stopped twitching and there was oil splattering everywhere with each impact of the now broken-open helm. Only once he heard a moan from Optimus echo over the room did Sentinel stop, his optics going wide.

The other Prime was snapping out of it and soon… he would be able to figure out what happened if he didn't remember everything already, both of their latches and spark casings revealed.

Swallowing a whimper, Sentinel quickly found the key that the Con had unlocked Optimus with and released his own chains. Sentinel then struggled to his feet, collapsing once before half crawling over to the other mech. Once there, he reached into a leg compartment and grabbed a rag that was meant of cleaning his weapons to wipe the other's equipment off and once that was done his optics struggled to find both of their cod pieces. Luckily, neither one was very far and he was quickly pressing Optimus' latches down for the groggy Prime. A heavy click filled the room just as the truck-former raised an arm to rub his head. Rushing to hide the evidence, Sentinel turned his back for a moment to wipe his thighs, more worried about the nanites then the fact his hands were covered in oil. Then, stuffing the rag under his cod piece, wincing as it stung, he clicked his own shut just as the repair-bot sat up, groaning.

"Uhhh, what happened? My head… We-we were chained up … and how did we both get on the floor?"

Sentinel, turned his head in a panic and almost wept … so glad that his hunch was right that a zombie-state wouldn't recall raping his ex-best friend since Optimus had no control in his actions. It had been a wild guess that Optimus wouldn't remember, but even if the other Prime did remember… Well, he would reply it was madness! Soundwave was just messing with his mind.

Nodding to himself, Sentinel looked at his hands as the other Prime slowly got to his feet, glad the oil was covering up the stains of their courting. He was so shell shocked that he barely even noticed that Optimus was standing over Soundwave's corpse, a hand over his mouth and his optics full of horror, his voice seeming like a whisper from the past, "W-what happen here?"

Struggling to get to his own feet, though he was sure he would collapse, Sentinel stood up as proudly as he could and whispered, "Nothing, I took care of him … let's just get out of here."

XXX

Paw07: if you think this kind of reminds of Faded Blue… you are right. Both were originally started around the same time, but if I ever get around to adding additional chapters to either… well, you would see how different the two would be. Faded Blue would be a selfish smut-fest and this one would get a real plot and spark wrenching secrets for Sentinel. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE Sentinel had his rule obsession, maybe I have a thing for uniformed stoic men, but mmm … angsty. Anyway, remember I get paid in reviews and if you are of age … follow the links on my profile page to get the **unedited** version. :3


	2. Blood Letting

Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 year

Note: the story follows the series up until "Transwarp" and the Season finally that led up to it. So Ultra Magnus isn't out of the picture quite yet (I always found it strange that that episode happened before "Where is thy Sting" given Sentinel should have stayed planet side and never got after a measly escapee). So currently, the story is taking place before that episode but "Where is thy Sting" is happening now as well as the details of 'Nature Calls' has some unsolved details that are taking place right now as well. So… I'll explain the timeline in the text, but just wanted you hard-core fans to understand why things were … moved around. It helps kills a few plot holes. What can I say?

XXX

Chapter 2: Blood Letting

Optimus' frown grew hard as he watched Sentinel stall again, leaning against a building as he vented heavily. He looked ready to pass out, his form looking weary as his wrists and ankles dripped slight amounts of energon. Stalling, wishing that Sentinel would have just stayed in the old substation the first time he felt faint, Optimus reached a hand out towards Sentinel's shoulder ready to steady him …

Merely to have Sentinel jumped back, optics bright and wide as he cried, "Don't touch me! Don't fraggen touch me!"

Hands going up as Optimus stalled in the subway, the fire truck took a step back while being mindful of the middle track so he wouldn't electrocute himself. Optimus' voice was weary, "Wo, wo. It's okay Sentinel. Calm down. You just looked like you might … fall. I … wasn't going to hurt you."

Optics still bright, Sentinel quickly realized his mistake. _Paranoia_. He was making himself look guilty.

Trying to remain calm, the blue mech sighed and shook his head. "S-sorry … everything j-just hurts. Yeah, e-even my armor hurts. Please don't touch me."

Optimus stood there a moment surprised that Sentinel had actually said _please_. It had been a long time since he had heard that from the other and it made him stall. Dumbfounded, all Optimus could do was stare at Sentinel as if he was looking for something.

His spark merely throbbed as the two shared a long stare. Optimus didn't know what happened down there and that bothered him more than anything … mostly because his spark seemed to be pressing against its glass, whispering something that he _should_ know.

Whatever it was, it was something mournful and sick … something his mind should know. And not knowing, to have his thoughts stolen by the Earth Con, enraged him slightly. Though, now staring at Sentinel, he realized that all of his answers to his missing thoughts were right in front of him. They were in the one that had remained awake and had suffered for it, Sentinel. Unfortunately, there was shame and hurt in the Sentinel's optics and … was that fear? So there was the question, 'Did he want to know?'

What could Sentinel possibly be afraid of?

Frowning, Optimus murmured, "Please, let me help you back to base… unless you want me to drive ahead to base and get Ratchet? He can transport you."

Sentinel shook his head, knowing already that he didn't want Ratchet anywhere near him so soon after being … violated. Ratchet was a war mech and probably had seen many a mech and femme come into his tent, violated and shaken. He could probably convince Optimus' that he was shaking because of torture, electricity, but a medic would notice that none of his systems were damaged the right way. The longer he kept away from Ratchet to collect himself, the better. In fact, it was probably best if he kept away from Jazz as well. The ninja-bot wasn't a medic but he was trained in certain aspects for emergency situations.

Finding his voice, a part of him secretly glad that Soundwave had damaged their comm. links with his sonic blasts, he murmured, "No, neither of us could take on an enemy this way. Remember the Autobot vow… no one gets left behind."

Optics going wide, Optimus forgot how religiously Sentinel upheld the Autobot vows and how much those words echoed in his helm … like the day Elita had fallen into that hole in the earth, crying out for them and Sentinel begging to go after her.

Putting a hand out, wanting to touch Sentinel's wrist at least but somehow resisting, he murmured, "No, no. I'm not leaving you behind. I-I was just worried about you health and I was going to get Ratchet, b-but you are right. We will stick together."

Walking slowly, glad there were two tracks just in case they met a subway train so they could move over, Optimus finally broke the silence after what felt like forever and asked, "Sentinel … what happened down there? I don't remember anything. Tell me what happened, you looked quite shaken."

Sentinel moved his lips, his mind struggling to pick one of the dozens of lies his mind had made up and finally … he decided that the closest thing to the truth would be the easiest to uphold. Moving his lips, his throat feeling raw, he murmured, "Well, we were hanging there and then we saw that that Soundwave character was rusting. He then … then started that device on your helm and it was like you weren't there anymore. Apparently, he wanted to get our structural information so he could … have our bodies. He said that he wanted yours and … you started telling him about your structure and where _things_ were located. I was yelling at him and apparently he wanted info from me as well."

Here is where the lies started and though he knew that they would just pile on top of each other until they crushed him under their weight, he spoke them anyway.

His lips moved as he vents sighed, "He decided to play with me for being a 'loud mouth'. He used his sonics and electricity to … torture me."

Optimus' optics brightened in the dullness of the subway tunnels before he turned his head, the darkness devouring all the light except for his optics it seemed, "I'm sorry, Sentinel … but … how did you get down?"

Frowning, his mind struggling to find the right lie, another lie on top of another, he grumbled, "I pretended to be deactivated. He took me down so he could start taking me apart."

Sputtering, horror in his optics, Optimus shook his head as if he had been the one raped, whispering, "A-and I just watched."

Spark so pained, he bore his teeth and then let his lips fall open … words almost soft, "What's done is done… let's not talk about it anymore."

Optimus was silent after that, his gaze shifting to the crippled and disoriented Sentinel … a part of him wishing that he could read minds because Sentinel never forgot that easily especially when something was wronged against him. He expected justice through Autobot law. True, he did pound Soundwave's cranium into the cement which in itself seemed far too violent and desperate for the clinical Sentinel, but where was the demand for paper work or procedure?

Something was wrong with Sentinel… why wouldn't he look him in the optic?

"Sentinel… are you sure you are alright?" said Optimus, his voice almost begging.

Giving the other's worry no mind, the blue mech pushed himself forward in front of the other though his limbs were shaking and his helm was starting to feel disoriented again like when he first woke up, the pain between his legs from his first popping and the sonics after were not helping the exhaustion. Frag, he knew from the femmes he had popped that he should rest and let his systems relax because they were recalibrating for a new online system.

Frag… when he had taken Elita… he had lain with her all day, holding her.

It was a memory he would grasp onto whenever things got hard, her helm buried into his shoulder, her squeaks and giggles when it started feeling good for her. And the way their bodies fit so perfect together like they had been made for each other. Sure they had their spats, he would be a jerk and she would just come right back and knock him down a peg or two with a coy word or two and a swing of her hips. The perfect femme. It had only been about two orns later that, after they had spent that night of soft passion together, that he lost her.

Grabbing onto her smile and the ghosting feel of her kissing on his audios as she had been so fond of, even in public, he kept his feet moving even when his legs started to feel numb. Frag, he had to keep moving. Even if he had to pretend that she was mocking him for being weak. He held onto that ghostly echo of her voice until he finally had to crawl up out of the railway and up into a group of staring late nighters waiting for the train. He even imagined her cooing at him for being a sparkling since he couldn't even crawl up the stairs and out into the street.

And even when Optimus begged that he should take a break, he imagined that it was just any other adventure, the three of them… Optimus begging that this was a bad idea.

Huh, to think. If Elita hadn't died, he would probably be like Optimus and Optimus would probably be the rule-myster. Elita's deactivation had taught him a hard lesson that day, one that bled into his spark and made him cold and serious, gone were the days of dad decisions. The rules were there to protect him. The rules were there to be obeyed.

If he had had listened, just that once to the rules… none of this would have ever happened.

Frag, he was dizzy.

'Stop acting like a protoform; you can't even walk straight,' came Elita's voice in the back of his head. And he tried to obey it but his equilibrium was going. He couldn't stand anymore, but he had to be conscious for when they got to the ship. He had to make sure the medic didn't see certain things. He had to remain conscious.

'Oh baby … it's okay to be tired.'

"D-don't say that," whispered Sentinel, cleaner welling up in his optics. She was supposed to be his strength. She was supposed to keep him strong. Yet … here he was. Slowly falling to his knees, Optimus grabbing for him to try and slow his fall. He should have screamed and pulled away, told Optimus never to touch him again. But for a moment, he imagined the one touching the side of his helm was Elita and that those worried blue optics were hers…

Reaching a hand up, now cribbed in Optimus' arms, he whispered, "Elita… I've missed you. P-lease don't leave me again."

Optimus' optics, the mech just trying to cradle Sentinel's helm, went wide and a sudden fear prickled in his chest as his old friend reached up and touched his cheek… calling out her name. Sentinel would never forget Elita even when he was deactivating… Frag. No, no, no! Sentinel wasn't offlining, was he? He was shaking and weak and should have really stayed in subways to recover. But would that have really mattered? Because … What if Soundwave had ripped out some system components when he had been out of it?

He had left Sentinel defenseless, hadn't he? Sentinel always did need his back watched.

Choking in his throat, he pulled his friend close, his mind fighting with itself to get up and leave or stay here as his old friend died. The latter made the most mournful sense… Sentinel was going to offline even if ran the whole way to base because the other Prime's systems were turning off to quickly one by one as if he was going into recharge. Optimus felt helpless as he just watched it happen. It reminded him of the spider planet all over again, but this time … now Sentinel was falling in after her.

But this time he wasn't a scare young mech. He was a soldier no matter what Sentinel called him. He was strong. Shaking the other, voice pitched, anger bubbling as he almost yelled, "Sentinel! Sentinel! Don't you dare deactivate! Elita would never forgive me in the Well of Sparks! SENTINEL!"

Still shaking the other slightly, watching as the blue mech struggled to keep online, the repair-bot nearly wept in frustration when he heard jet engines… thinking it was Cons. But, as those horrid engines drew nearer, it seemed Primus could see him even on this small planet because, instead of two towering titans of hate and steal, two little sure-footed saviors landed on the pavement. Two little flying Autobots, sliding to a halt.

"We's being hearing screaming. Who's is…"

The two stalled, optics going bright as they both stood there a moment in horror. And Optimus didn't blame them. He was bleeding down the helm like a dying mech and Sentinel was bleeding as well down his wrists and ankles, shaking as his optics struggled to remain online. He looked like he was offlining … if he really wasn't.

"Primus," whispered Jetfire and Jetstorm as they ran forward crying, "Mr. Sentinel Sir! We's been looking all overs! Is he's alright?"

Jetstorm was soon kneeling next to the conscious and nearly unconscious Prime, his blue hands acting like they wanted to touch his superior but unable to. Meanwhile, Jetfire merely stood over the two, looking panicked and scared. He looked far more his age, too young for such violence despite his power.

"Whats being wrong with him! What being wrong!" cried Jetfire, his voice causing Sentinel to turn his head slightly… the noise fuzzy to him as everyone's mouths moved out of sync.

"He needs a medic. Go get Ratchet! You, comm. for some nearby help if there is any," came a demand, Optimus' mouth moving a moment later in a tone Sentinel didn't recall Optimus ever having.

Despite Optimus' urgency though, Sentinel wanted to say no, to shake his head and get back up, but he was too dizzy and his systems were going dark. He knew the head wound and the trauma from the rape were coming full around. Frag, he was so out of it that he didn't even know Optimus had pulled him into his chest and started asking him questions.

Frag, he was so numb he barely even reacted to Jetfire flying off nor Jetstorm yelling over his comm. An orn could have passed but he was so disoriented he barely even twitched when Jazz's alt mode raced around the corner and transformed into a skid next to the kneeling group.

"OP, what happened to him? The fly-bots were trying to give me the lowdown but the message wasn't getting across if you know what I mean!" said the ninja-bot as he leaned down and with a careful hand titled Sentinel's head back so he was looking him in the optics.

He couldn't even focus on the other.

"Slag, SP… what happened?" said the ninja-bot to Optimus when he noted that Sentinel was struggling just to remain conscious and couldn't speak. "Is the threat still around? We need some backup?"

"The threat has his helm smashed in about three miles back. Sentinel barely got free from what I understand. He had been tortured … and he didn't want to be left behind. I didn't want him up and about but he … can be so stubborn," growled Optimus at the end.

"I hear you, OP. We need to get him to the ship," said the ninja-bot as he stood up, only to stall as if he had just had an idea, "or bring the ship to us. Ratchet, you there slow-timer."

"Stop calling me, slow … or old! I'm trying to get some tools!" replied the comm.

"Forget the tools, old timer. Jazz has a plan. Get to the ship, take Jetstorm with you and bring the ship here. The less we have to move these two, the better."

After that, Sentinel couldn't keep online much longer. He recalled his vision going completely dead and someone yelling and him. Frag, there was a lot of yelling, and then grumbling and jostling… and a cool surface. Yet, where was Elita? She had been with him, right? Where was she! She couldn't leave him, not again!

Choking, form shivering he pulled himself out of his reboot, whispering, "Elita… where are you?"

Yet… her yellow form didn't fall into his vision, instead it was a bright light and two blurs. No, no, it was Jazz … and the repair-bot's medic. Designation Ratchet. Yes, yes. That was the name in the report he had read. H-he was in the ship's medical bay, wasn't he? F-frag. He had to get the medic away from him. He knew that there still had to be signs of the rape. He had to hide them. The paint scratches, the erratic spark rate … faint traces of Optimus' fluids between his thighs and under the oil on his hands.

"Sentinel's coming around," said Ratchet as he turned his head. "Now get back on that berth, young-in. I still haven't looked at your helm and … and that monstrosity attached to it. At least let the twins do a proper scan!"

Optimus, who had to be practically ripped apart from Sentinel since he was sure his old friend was dying, was still struggling with the twins as he was pushed back onto the second berth in the medical area, the lights bright and the berths online… popping up status screens for the patients' currently in residence.

Finally giving into one of the scans, as long as he could remain sitting to try and see what was happening on the berth next to his, Optimus asked, "W-what do you mean, coming around! Did you stabilize him? Frag, where is Sari and her key when we need it!"

"Camping, remember we got that faint Cybertronian signal so Prowl, Bumblebee, and Sari when up to check on it. Sari recommended that they try this 'camping' thing again because the barnacles ruined it last time so they wouldn't be back in a few days," growled Ratchet as he pulled a wire out of the berth and started searching Sentinel's helm for an impute jack. "And we don't need her key. I'm perfectly capable of doing my job! Now lay down on the berth!"

"B-but is he stabilized," said Optimus, almost whining when Jazz turned away from Sentinel and over to him.

"SP will be okay. His systems were just stressed so they were trying to pull him down into recharge and into reboot. He just passed out. Now listen to the crank-bot and lay down. We still don't know what that device on your helm does," said Jazz as he reached for a cord out of Optimus' berth much like Ratchet had done, and walked forward, feeling on the side of Optimus' helm. Then he slid a small bit of armor to the side and plunged the medical machines into Optimus' helm. The fire-truck jolted from the sudden invasion, the medical equipment pulling up his file and ripping down his firewalls with ease as they started their examination of his systems.

"Now, just remain still. Sentinel's systems are far more critical than yours, so let the medic-bot think," said Jazz, his words far more professional than usual though that wasn't much of a surprise, given his fellow crew mate looked like death was sneaking up on him.

Sighing, vents taking in air shakily, Optimus laid down his helm and placed a hand over his optics, trying to banish his worries and fears.

Sentinel, on the other hand, was struggling to keep calm. The medic was trying to plug into his helm and start the medical scans of his form to see what systems were stressed: his interfacing and spark chamber for one, and Sentinel would have none of that.

"S-stop… I-I'm fine. O-optimus' systems were invaded. H-he could have left a virus or something. J-just let me rest. M-my systems can take care of most of the damage," slurred the blue mech, trying to squirm away.

Ratchet just growled, pressing down. "Optimus wasn't the one who passed out and isn't the one who was tortured. Now. Stay. The Frag. Still."

Tilting his head away every time Ratchet tried looking for the jack to plug in the medical computer, the blue mech tried to get his limbs to obey when he found his voice, "A-are you disobeying a d-direct order?"

Pulling away for a moment, as if surprised, Sentinel almost smiled in relief only to reel back when the old medic suddenly barked, "Don't pull that on me, young-bot! A medic or surgeon can pull rank on any officer if their health is in question or nearly dying, covered in who knows whose oil, and half a mili-second from reboot. You can't tell me how to do my job!"

Sentinel, helm pressing back into the berth as he tried to get away, suddenly found Jazz in his line of sight and grabbing either side of his helm, the ninja-bot smiling sadly, "Come now, boss-bot. Just let the medic do his job."

Then, betrayal in his spark, he felt one of Jazz's fingers slide over the slot that would allow the medical equipment to rut around in his head. Only one small sob was allowed to escape him when Ratchet clicked the impute jack into his helm and then the medical scan slammed into his helm and pass his firewalls, instantly noticing his systems needed a reboot and stabilization. He was only allowed to twitch as his hub went offline and he was forced into recharge.

Meanwhile, every-bot either in Stealhaven or being transformed or chased by mutant barnacles in the mountains, Bulkhead had been left at their warehouse base for security … a dark shadow sneaking up behind him with red optics.

XXX

Paw07: That Sentinel collapsing scene … that would be a perfect death scene. It really would have. But I love Sentinel far too much for that … I hope I broke a few sparks with this chapter. Later.

**Grammar Edits January 2013. **


	3. Washing Away Shame

Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 year

Chapter 3: Washing Away Shame

Shockwave picked up a blue metallic cube, crushed perfectly… the spark inside probably dead if it hadn't faded yet. He had many plans. Many ones indeed. Apparently, one of Megatron's creations and proven how resilient it was and distracted the Autobots long enough to get a hold off the mech called Bulkhead to finish their space bridge. The bridge he would use to take over Cybertron.

It was to be a calculated attack, many teams taking over multiple space bridges so that it would be an overpowering attack… but Megatron had yet to attack… yet to call back … yet to do anything.

It was a troubling circumstance and he doubted he would have time to clean this up before he was discovered.

Claws twitching as he stared at Blurr's crushed formed, a part of him thinking it was a slight waste, but he decided that if he was going to lose this position … he was going to go out with a bang. Slowly, with precise and calculating fingers he walked back to his office and took on his humble Autobot form. And though it was in the late evening by Cybertronian standards, if the Communication Head called Ultra Magnus and told him it was important… the old mech would come and with his pet Sentinel Prime and Jazz gone … it was unlikely he would have any lackies with him.

To help defend him…

It would be easy to destroy an old mech and at least kill the old soldier and take his hammer.

Ultra Magnus, picking up the com, asked, "What is it Long Arm Prime?"

Long Arm Prime nearly smiled.

…

The world … had this insistently irritating what with that Primus awful beeping.

Ugh, he knew he should get up. He should make sure that his underlines were doing as they were told, following the regulations, and basically he had to put a stop to any tom-foolery. Mechs could die if they weren't following the rules. It was a lesson he knew all too well. So, despite the ache that ruled his frame, he found himself pulling his body up off his berth, only to find himself moan in pain and fall back onto the metal slab, moaning.

What hit him?

O-oh yeah… a fire truck.

"Sentinel Prime, I see you are onlining. About fraggen time!" came a voice, kind of grouchy and irritated yet at the same time there was an underlining tone of worry to it.

Onlining his optics, he moaned again, knowing this ceiling a little better then he would have liked to admit. Jazz, when sparring, had a great round house kick though he would never admit it to the other … and sometimes he needed sleeping nanites from the medical closet. It wasn't an addiction. He kept to the recommended levels so he couldn't be court-martialed and could fly the ship… but sometimes in his dreams he would remember her and a youthfulness he forgot he had. It hurt his spark when he woke and he would find recharge inaccessible for cycles after.

Some things were better off dulled and faintly forgotten.

Sighing, praying that Ratchet hadn't discovered what had happened, he started to sit up as the cantankerous mech headed his way from the other side of room. The healer looked to have been working on a young yellow femme Sentinel didn't recognize as part of Optimus Primes' group. He might not have known all of their names but he knew their regulation numbers.

Every one.

But he had bigger worries right now… he felt a slosh underneath his cod piece. Yes, it meant that Ratchet hadn't discovered what had happened or otherwise he would have been cleaned up by the aged mech's old fingers and that alone probably sickened him more than being discovered. Trying not to faint as he sat up straight, he noted that he had been cleaned up otherwise, scratches buffed out and his helm was clear.

Just how long had he been out? He knew he would need a full mega-cycle after the… interfacing, but he had been out much longer than that.

His hub was showing him the date, but he still found himself asking in disbelief, "How long have I been … out?"

Ratchet, now next to Sentinel's berth and staring at the reading on the hologram over his berth, carefully looked at the blue mech, murmuring, "Long enough to miss another outbreak of space barnacles, Bulkhead being kidnapped, a giant robot battle, a spacebridge backfire, a … uh… a new recruit, and Megatron getting sucked into a randomly firing space bridge generator."

Looking up confused, he murmured, "W-what? How long have I been out? It says I've been out three Mega-cycles? And … Barnacles? What?"

Moaning, slowly touching his helm, Sentinel added, "G-give me a report. I-I can't process what you are saying."

Frowning, getting closer he murmured, "Reports are more Optimus' thing. Now, here, let me see your optics."

Sighing, he allowed the old mech to title his chin and ran a lighted scan over his optics. The field medic mere sighed and stated, "That sonic weapon really hurt a lot of your systems. I didn't know what all to fix because Optimus couldn't remember anything but a sick feeling, and you were rebooting so I couldn't get anything from you. I fixed all the damage I could see and anything the medical systems were telling me about but … some things your systems needed was just a reboot and others were small energon circuits that just had to repair on their own. That's probably why you are still dizzy or it might just be because of their disuse. Your date files are a little off … its been closer to eleven Mega-cycles."

Mouth dropping open, he yelled, "What!"

"Yes, yes. Soundwave damaged your systems far worse than Optimus'. He blasted you more than once from the looks of it and," Ratchet was silent for a moment as he growled, "your reboot was particularly sensitive with your emotional systems. It was slow repairing them, careful even."

Optics becoming slits, Sentinel fearing the mech suspecting something, he asked, "Are you hinting at something?"

Gaining a stern face, the old medic asked, "Optimus said something about … torture. What kind? He thought it was electricity but I didn't see any singeing in the circuits though they did look overcharged. Not a destructive overcharge either. It was more like what happens when interfacing occurs or … when someone touches your spark."

Fear rippling beneath the surface Sentinel bit down the urge to strike out in terror and rumbled, "What are you trying to say? I am not a slut-bot."

Optics becoming bright, knowing emotional defense when he saw it, Ratchet tried to resist the urge to bite at the other, "No, no. Sentinel I am not saying that. I know you take your position very seriously, and … Soundwave didn't even have the right _equipment_ for that. Though… he did have interest in having a body like ours and a … spark like ours, didn't he?"

Words careful, looking for the micro-expressions to catch the truth before Sentinel denied it, Ratchet asked, "Did he touch yours? Did he torture you by touching it or shocking it? I need to know so I can examine it. I would have done so while you were out but … we've been to busy with the Cons and those examinations are best done when awake in case you are having pains."

Audio fins rising in defense, Sentinel barked, "No! No one … that fragger didn't touch my spark! Yes, he hit me with his damn sonics far too many times and fragged my systems up but he never touched me like that!"

"Well, then you wouldn't mind opening your chassis and letting me make sure your okay, would you?" said Ratchet, signing for the larger mech to lie down.

Sentinel, face becoming distorted with rage, growled, "I am not going to bare myself like a whore-bot. Besides, I don't have time for this from what you said earlier anyway. Something about space bridges and … barnacles. Where is Jazz? I need a real report."

Pushing back his pain as he ripped the medical cords from his helm, Sentinel's feet hit the medical floor and though he felt like puking he walked past the healer with a steady yet stiff gait. Ratchet, who looked ready to blow, barked, "Get back here Sentinel! As team medic I have authority over…"

"SHUT IT! Before I break your helm in!"

It was loud, it was harsh and … Sentinel himself was almost shocked by the words that escaped him, but instead he coughed, "I-I mean, only in emergencies do you have any rein over me as a medic. The medical computers say I'm fine. Now … I have things to do."

Then, balance a little more sure footed, he found himself rushing forward with quick feet. Ratchet could only watch silently until Sentinel was gone and then there was a mouse like sound from the corner for the room. He couldn't help but turn a tired optic to the yellow colored femme and growl, "Don't give me that look."

"What look… we still haven't figured out how to get my battle mask down," said Sari sarcastically, "I don't have a face."

Ratchet rolled his optics, figuring that he should solve one problem at a time, walked up to her and pulled out a welding looking tool and stood over the small frame again. Sitting still, the old mech having barked at her far too much today for her liking, the new-teen asked, "You better not be using that on me and … is Sentinel okay? I know I shouldn't care about that jerk but … he looked … scared."

Frowning softly as he sighed through his vents, his shoulders feeling heavy as bricks, Ratchet's tone was so soft it should have belong to the dead, "Everyone deserves to be cared about kid, even Sentinel. That's an Autobot quality so don't feel bad for having it. And if he's scared… I don't know."

Nodding softly, she added, "But you are still not going to let him get away with that, are you?"

Chuckling, liking the feel of power and need again, the healer turned on his welding torch, "Since your key is on the fritz from your upgrade fiasco… yes, I am the medic which is why I'm going to be sending Optimus a message … as soon as I figured out how to get this off."

Leaning in with his welder, Ratchet added, "Let us begin."

...

Jazz, who was beaten and cracked from the recent battle with Megatron over the space bridge, blinked in surprise when Optimus reached up and suddenly started to speak a one-sided conversation over his com link, "That's great! He finally woke up…. Wait, he what? And you just let him walk away?"

There was a silence, "I understand. I will let the others know. How is Sari? Oh, that was all it took then? I doubt she's happy about that."

Nodding his head, looking at Jazz and Bulkhead who were both in the warehouse with him, he murmured, "Okay, Optimus out."

Looking at Jazz, the jet twins sitting in the distant room with Bee watching television it looked like, Optimus murmured, "Well, it seems that Sentinel is finally awake. You can probably head back to Cybertron now with a full report though Ratchet said he didn't get a release exam out of the stubborn idiot yet though. So, he needs one before you guys go. We can't have him breaking down without a real medic nearby."

Shaking his helm, Jazz added, "I'm sure I can handle any minor blimps, but if the med-bot won't clear him for active duty until he's had a check-up, I'm down with that. I dig Earth … except all the Cons and barnacles and giant robot battles …"

Optimus actually smirked at that, nodding towards Jazz, "Good to know. With all the Con activity around here or should I say was … Megatron now jumping randomly in the universe. Regardless, we should have Bulkhead and Prowl keep and outlook for him since they are on rounds."

Nodding, Jazz turned on his com and in the vibrant way only the ninja bot could, "Yo, Bulkhead, Prowl? You got your ears on?"

There was a moment of silence and though the tone might have been irritated or bemused, one could never tell with Prowl, the other ninja-bot answered, "I would like to clarify that neither of us have ears, but I can tell you I am listening."

Jazz merely laughed, Bulkhead murmuring '_here'_ and moment later as the Elite continued, "Well, just wanted you two to keep an optic out. Sentinel's escaped the resident medic and the Hatchet ain't happy. Just let us know where you find him so we can drag him back to the ship… Ratchet doesn't want him about without being cleared."

Prowl merely murmured, "Understood, but he's a big mech… I won't be looking to hard," before hanging up and Bulkhead was silent for a moment.

"So… is he shaking and sick or something? Should I set … uh … a priority in finding him? I definitely will but … uh… he doesn't like me and won't listen to anything I say," said Bulkhead uncertainly.

Jazz listened intently before he added, "Do worry Green … Sentinel doesn't like anybody but the Ultra Magnus and pretty femmes. Just if you happen upon his blue butt, let us know, kay my brother?"

Confused over the brother part most likely, Bulkhead was quiet before replying, "Oh, okay… Bulkhead out."

Unfortunately for Jazz or Sentinel depending on the party one would be rooting for, the blue mech was unlikely to be happened upon by any random search. The reason for this not being because he was hard to spot, being blue and loud mouthed generally doesn't give one great skills of stealth, but because he was nowhere on the streets to be found.

He was in the dark. Head full of secrets and fear and shame. He knew that Ratchet could not force him into a spark exam unless his medical scans came back reporting otherwise … or if they found a clue of abuse. The only clues were his dirtied equipment and the room in which the deed had occurred. He was going to get rid of that first.

His travel over to the location of the crime had been panicked but calculating. Though still primitive, the humans did have some great cleaning chemicals and he also brought some Cybertronian ones for those _stubborn_ patches. It was dark and horrific down there, but it would also offer him a little silence to have any and all proof gone and then … he would clean under his cod piece.

Swallowing at the thought of touching his raw equipment, Sentinel continued to walk down the subway track still surprised at how he instinctively knew where to go. It was like the nightmare was a full blown film in his head, every clink of the chain on his wrist and the whispers of Optimus' … he just wanted some of the details to fade.

But nothing would.

At least cleaning the evidence would offer him some solitude and if Primus knew any mercy, he would forget the details and perhaps the act completely one cycle.

He just had to believe that and yet as he stood in the crumbling stone entrance to the room where he had been defiled, he felt himself panicking. His spark was just pounding in his chest as if he was about to be chained up once more and raped again.

And yet, his pride wouldn't let him leave, to run away sobbing and in pain and sick with himself. He wouldn't even allow himself to lose the medical grade that had probably drip fed into his tank. Instead, legs shaking he came forward and from his subspace he pulled out a cleaner with an high acidic content, careful to get none on his paint as he spread it over the floor.

He knew it could peel his paint job. That much was for sure.

And yet, even after he found a water spout and drowned the floor in water and cleaner, the floor looking far too clean and out of place, he found himself on his hands and knees with a rag just rubbing the concrete desperately as he choked in the back of his throat, optic fluid dripping from his optics though he did his best to remain quiet. Even though, with each desperate swipe to remove any clue of Optimus' actions there was a flashback. This was hell, paint was being peeled off his fingers and knees, and yet he just had to do this … he had to erase this.

And so, nearly a breakdown later, his paint looking faded around his knees and hands, Sentinel found himself shakily walking down the subway again.

If felt like he had been raped all over again. He was even sure that he was sloshing beneath his cod piece. And he didn't even want to think of that, but he had to do it before Ratchet tried to make good on his threat… so where should it be done? It was probably best to stay away from Steelhaven until after the act was done, but then again he knew that Jazz liked being submissive while interfacing from time to time and apparently there was a moving shower head that could clean up there perfectly.

He didn't know much about cleaning that interface equipment but … he didn't want to do it inaccurately and get an infection.

Swallowing, stepping into the dull evening light, he shivered and made up his mind. He needed to get back on the ship and clean himself properly. He wasn't as quick footed as Jazz or the twins but he knew the ship better then Ratchet and the medic probably kept to the medical bay anyway or his Earth base.

Nodding, he took a quick step forward ready to transform with the momentum, but the next thing he knew, his spark slammed painfully in the chassis. But at least that's what it felt like, his transformation clog seizing up and putting him on his knees… his tank coming up a moment later, spewing warm energon.

And for a moment he just stayed there panting, hating Optimus and Soundwave in a way he had never known before. A rage so deep that it must have been what drove the Cons in their trials and he might have taken time to be disgusted that he had any like qualities to a Con when a small hand came up on his shoulder.

The touch made him jump and he was on his feet with his sky-boom shield under Prowl's chin. For a minute Prowl was still, swallowing, staring and completely silent until he asked softly, "Would you mind removing your shield from my throat? I rather like my head where it is."

Optics wide, as if noticing how jumpy he was since the incident, Sentinel pulled the shield down and looked around as if confused. His system had gone into full defend mode. That was strange… he had never gone into that mode before, unless he was under a really stressful training campaign.

It had been a long time.

Slowly putting his shield away, he grumbled, "Best to announce yourself next time, repair-bot. I could have taken your head off."

Offering no signs of recognition, Prowl looked around them and asked, "What are you doing out here? Ratchet has been looking for you for almost a groon and from the looks of where your last meal went … perhaps we should have been looking harder."

Glaring, hating someone's attention on him, he murmured, "I am fine."

Merely stared at the other, Sentinel hating that the other had a visor on, before the ninja mech nodded, "Then let's get back to base. If you are fine, I'm sure you will be able to drive without any need for assistance."

Lip twitching, knowing all too well that though Prowl was small … a ninja-bot was crafty. It was best not to piss him off. It would be better to merely let the smaller mech believe he had an ounce of control in this situation if only to get rid of any suspicion from his head… and why he was out here in the middle of nowhere.

Huffing, pretending to be irritated, he carefully transformed this time, playing extra mind to each piece of sliding metal only to end up bouncing on his tires. He then roared his engine paying no mind to the bike as he pulled into traffic… though the yellow form was soon next to him, a holo-form on his back.

The truck twitched at the fake officer.

"You look ridiculous … with that holo-gram on your back," said Sentinel with a growl. "Even if it is a fake organic … Ugh."

Prowl, who was silent for a few minute, spoke back as calmly as ever, "Sentinel… I'm sure your hate for organics seems completely logical to you, but as an Autobot you should also mind that you believe in the freedom of sentient beings."

Prowl's next words bit deep as he continued, "And humans are that. In fact… they are so much like us. They get hungry, just like us. They get upset and weep, just like us. They have hopes and fears and dreams just like us. They even carry their young … like we can."

Sentinel almost slammed into the other, sickness and horror and the makeshift memory of Eltia being devoured by spiders made him all but scream his next words.

"All I know is that an organic will kill you the first chance it gets! They rip up your loved ones like they are little more than spare parts! Organics are filthy … now get out of my way!" barked Sentinel as he pulled ahead, engine roaring as he nearly cause Prowl to fishtail. The whole episode turning into a chase of sorts until Sentinel surprisingly took a turn towards his ship, sliding to a halt in front of Steelhaven, dusk rolling up like a ghostly cloud.

Transforming for all to see, Sentinel's rage was so engrossed and bared and hurt that Prowl had to stall and Sentinel almost didn't notice Ratchet … freezing for a moment as the medic walked down the walkway with the little femme at his side, the older mech looking brazen as the femme's optics flickered in irritation.

"That was low Ratchet, with the welding torture, scaring open my battle mask. I know everything is supposed to be under my control after the upgrade but … I can't even transform back yet," whispered the girl in irritation. "I just want to keep my mask on so I don't … freak people out."

"You mean Sentinel … speaking of which," the medic, as if on instinct he turned his head as Prowl walked up next to the tired looking Prime, "Where the slag have you been! I heard that you've been ill."

Sentinel immediately glared down at Prowl, said mech giving no indication he noticed the glare.

"Sentinel was ill again?"

Optic twitching, Sentinel then turned his attention to the other Prime, worry written all over Optimus' face as the fire-truck asked the blue Prime directly, "Why did you even leave the ship at all, Sentinel? You are not well, Sentinel."

The snow-truck twitched and was about to bark at the medic that it was none of his business when suddenly Optimus came forward and entered Sentinel's bubble. His armor crawl just and his spark ache ached from being in proximity of the other. Part of him just wanted to yell and strike out at the other but … he had to hide the truth and yelling at someone that they raped you was no way to do that.

Taking in a shaking breath, hating the way everyone was staring at him as well as the strange femme. He bit his tongue. He had to act like himself. He had to be strong and commanding.

A leader.

Baring his teeth, his sensors trying to ignore Optimus proximity, Sentinel deiced to take at least a little of his rage out on the other though, "Perhaps if you would have had a decent report around, I wouldn't have to look for the answers! Now, make me a proper one instead of your medic's idiotic banter!"

Worry melting away, Optimus continued not even detoured by the other's biting tone, "Perhaps if you would have asked me instead of just running off."

"I didn't run off! I…"

His tank twitched. He was feeling sick again … just from being near Optimus. The violence was bringing back flashes and pain and shame and … he was going to purge his tank again.

He needed to get inside before …

Immediately he grabbed for his midsection, tank churning and flipping and causing his optics to start to water. He could taste energon rising in his throat tubing. Optimus was unimportant. The femme was unimportant. Everyone was unimportant! He had to keep his pride. He had to hide the fact that the kind golden sparked Optimus Prime had defiled him, dirtied him, spilled his fluids into his insides and pressed their spark glasses together.

Turning, noting that Optimus had stalled and was now staring at him with a worried expression, Sentinel ignored Sari and Ratchet and found himself walking toward Steelhaven while pressing a hand over his mouth.

He wanted off this planet as quickly as possible. Right now! He didn't care about organics or space bridges or Cons or even the All Spark's status right now. H-he just knew he had to get away from Optimus. He had to get away from him and the spark that had intertwined with his… remembering him.

He could feel his spark tugging for the other, wanting some comfort for his pain.

Servos shaking, bottom lip shivering, he tripped into the cargo bay with Ratchet sharing a look with Optimus, both looking worried.

Not that Sentinel saw that. He merely tripped farther into the innards of his ship and into the shadows of his door, shivering as he wrapped one of his arms around himself as he fumbled with the door controls.

With a shaking servo, he managed to get his door open just as a jogging Optimus came around the corner to see him heading into his room. Then, Optimus' voice driving him to his shower, Sentinel tripped into his cleaning station and manager to turn on the cleaner fluid before he lost his tank's contents again.

And, even with Optimus pounding on his door, he tried to keep on a brave face even as he took a few moments to bury his face in his hands and allowed a few feeble and frightened sobs to escape him before he pushed all those fears back under the surface.

He needed to be strong.

His strength was all he had.

It drove him forward though just like it had to do now … he had to clean himself but at the same time he couldn't even spread his legs to take his cod piece off, even when he heard Jazz override the lock in his room with his medical code no doubt.

He nearly jumped out of his armor when Jazz's voice slammed into his warm watered solitude, "Yo, SP… Are you okay? Ratchet and Optimus said you stumbled in here. You okay?"

Taking in a deep vent, warm cleaner solution dripping down his frame, he yelled back, "Y-yeah. I just got dizzy and the warm cleaner helps plus … in case I lose my tank again. I-I don't want to make a mess."

A tired sigh coming across the way, a shadow moving under the door, Jazz replied, "I got yah, SP … but if you aren't out in a groon, I'm helping Ratchet pull you out, kay?"

Hand still shaking too much to even think of touching his cod piece, Sentinel took the few extra minutes as an opportunity as he replied, "Alright Jazz … J-just let me clean up."

XXX

Paw07: Yep… Ratchet was an inch from the truth. But just an inch can mean the world. Will Ratchet tell Optimus of his suspicions? Will he lie? Will Sentinel bare the truth to anyone? How can a Heavy mech even rule? Will it hurt he sparkling … You'll just have to wait though feel free to guess. XD


	4. Far Away

Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 year

Chapter 4: Far Away

Sentinel's groon was coming to end and he had barely finished crying yet.

He turned off his vocals and that was probably the only reason Jazz hadn't opened the door and asked why he looked like a sorry sod… for that was what he looked like. He had barely even gotten his cod piece off before he started sobbing like a broken sparked femme, fingers shaking so badly that he could no longer feel them. But this had to be done.

He had so many dreams and promises to himself and... Elita to uphold like a heavy promise stamped in stone; he had to continue onward. So, it was with shaking hands that he took some cleaner into hand, mild for those inner mechanics, and a hose like device he rarely used. In truth, a mech or femme really didn't have to clean out their valve given the fluid was used for sparkling development and could also be absorbed by the body given time, but such thoughts were … sickening to say the least.

He wanted it out of him.

Or at least cleaned to the point that Ratchet wouldn't notice. Not that he had any plans of Ratchet looking down there with his old, creepy fingers. The very thought of Ratchet anywhere near his valve made his armor crawl. In fact, anyone's fingers down there made his circuits creep. But, given that Ratchet asked for only his spark … he might just be able to get away with it.

A few days after interfacing there were no signs the deed had happened.

Right?

Frag, he didn't know. He'd look into the mirror before he left because fighting Ratchet would not work. As a medic… he did have pull. And clearing a bill of health was one of the powers Ratchet had over Sentinel and the Prime had no wants to dirty his history and rune his chance to be Magnus over a stupid exam.

And he had to become Magnus.

All this suffering and heartbrokenness and never ending sorrow would be for naught if he didn't at least become Magnus.

And so, with shivering hands, he took the cleaning hose and placed it between his legs… the water was warm and though he felt stretched and sore it was no unpleasant having warm water cleaning away his sin. That is until he heard Optimus whispering in his audio, soft touches on his back. He felt sick … all over again. And might have balled into himself and denied it all again, but he had to clean his chamber as well in case there were any rubbing stains or scorch markings. So, scrubbing cloth in hand as he closed his thighs to keep the hose in place, he opened his chassis and with a quick hand rubbed the front of his glass.

He twitched, electricity dancing over his fingertips like static. He might have even scratched his casing when there was a sudden voice outside his bathroom door.

"Yo, SP? You done yet? You drownin' in there?" came Jazz's vocals.

Dropping the cleaner, suds flowing down the drain, Sentinel looked at the door and choked, "Yeah… just finishing up."

He watched the shadow shift below the door, like a monster wanting to clamber under and rip his soul to shreds. Hands shaking, he forgot the cleaner and pulled the hose out of himself, nearly dropping it as it sprayed warm water all over his face. Turning his head, blindly reaching around for the off valve, he tried to calm himself. After fumbling for a moment or two, he finally got it off and his hands blindly looked for a rag so he could wipe the tip of the hose off in case there was anything on it.

"Okay, SP. Well… Ratchet's bittin' at the bit. Let's get you out of there…" said the other Elite, behind the door, continuing, "Finish up, I'll get some buffer towels to dry you off."

Hands fumbling for his cod piece, a rag rubbing over his sensitive equipment to partially dry it as well as he could, he clicked on his cod piece and shut his spark chamber just as the shower door slid open. Jazz's optic's went wide and Sentinel noticed how pathetic he must have looked sitting on the shower floor, shaking and half cover in cleaner solution still.

Jazz's Autobot programming did not disappoint. Getting down on one knee, a show of compassion from his fellow soldier, Jazz carefully touched his shoulder and then almost gingerly touched the side of his cheek, rubbing his ear fin in what was meant to be a comforting touch. Surprisingly, Sentinel found himself leaning into the careful touch… the soft expression reminding him so much of Elita. It was kind and daring but never to forward until she thought it was time, an expression of kinship and trust.

The ninja-bot's words were soft, careful of tone and accent, "Sentinel… What happened to you down there?"

Optic's going offline, Sentinel realizing for the first time in a long time, how long it had been since someone touched him. He had a few one night stands after Elita but they did not compare to the affectionate touch of some-bot that cared about you. That thought alone made his vents hiccup in distress and he tried to keep it to himself, to keep those painful words so deep and buried and forgotten by everyone and everything but his inner ghost, but the words fled his vocals and over his throat and out of his mouth regardless.

"Terrible things… Soundwave t-tortured me in unusual ways. He r-ripped me into so many little pieces and despite how many times and begged Optimus to stop and help me… he couldn't hear me," choked Sentinel, hands coming forward as he pulled himself into the slightly smaller being's chassis, burying his face like a sparkling.

He couldn't stop the blubbering after that, his spark so weak and tortured and desperate for even a semblance of warmth and caring. Jazz, for the most part, was only shocked for a moment or two before he wrapped his arms around the other and murmured, "Hey, hey, it's okay, SP. Your training kept you alive … the mental anguish. It happens, but I'm here with you. Okay… Everything will be okay."

Pulling the other closer, wondering what Soundwave had done and what he meant by tortured in unusual ways, Jazz whispered in the other's audio, "It's okay SP. You survived him like you will survive this."

Pressing his lips against the other's forehead, a show of comfort common in femmes and Caretakers, Jazz pulled the other closer and allowed Sentinel's hands to grasp desperately at him. The whole time, a metal break on the way, all Jazz could think of was what Soundwave must had done in order to deserve his helm smashed in so violently.

And if Soundwave actually did deserved it.

…

It had taken nearly half a groon to get Sentinel to calm down, to have him stop his whispers of 'Please Stop' and 'Why' and so many other vague vocal shiverings that Jazz couldn't even start to dissect what had happened in the deep catacombs of that subway station.

All he knew was that Soundwave had wronged the other in some atrocious way and that Optimus had watched.

Taking the initiative, Jazz had made his own medical decision and put Sentinel to bed, the large mech stumbling the whole way to his berth. Jazz was near tears himself behind his visor when he finally managed to plug Sentinel into his berth and convince him to shut down, the large mech curling into himself.

Jazz felt like his spark casing had cracks in it.

Sentinel could be a pain in the aft, there was no denying that, but Jazz was still older than him and was only under Sentinel only because Sentinel had more drive then Jazz. Jazz knew where he was carefree, SP had in turn memorized every law and regulation in the book. He was a good bot. He tried his hardest and he had earned his current position… but he sometimes hid how young he was with his commanding voice and accomplishments.

So easily tarnished.

Sighing as he dimmed the lights to five percent, a soft glow, he left Sentinel's room and headed to the medical bay to speak to the higher ranking healer in their group of makeshift heroes. He almost twitched when Ratchet growled, "I heard he was taking a cleansing shower… I would have rather he not have, Jazz."

Then, turning around, holding a tool that looked like a spark scanner, Ratchet gained an irritated glare and asked in a gruff tone, "Where is he? He better not be buffing himself. I have better things to do with my time."

Shaking his head, hands behind his back as he took a very professional stance, Jazz replied, "Sorry, Hatchet … SP needs his rest. Poor guy must of had a flashback or something in the shower... He was in a sorry state. I put him down to rest his optics."

Ratchet, who was frowning even more now, gained a worried expression as he stared down at a hand-held scanner as if it were whispering something to him, but he was quick to look up again and murmur, "I see… did he say anything about what happened or what triggered his reaction. Some young-bots take … torture … better than others."

Jazz sighed and found himself staring at his feet for a moment. He really didn't want to talk about this or think of how SP had been hanging there in chains apparently, Soundwave tormenting the other with sonic frequencies and frag knows what else. It made his spark ache. He would have been better suited for capture than SP. He was older and with his ninja-bot training, he would have had better barricades then SP. SP had great firewalls, that much was true, but despite losing Elita he had no real hardships.

He didn't know pain.

Shrugging, the ninja-bot croaked, "Not much except it was unusual tortures and that … Optimus watched."

Lips pulling in a snarl, Ratchet barked, "Optimus is too good of a mech to just watch. Sentinel and him might have a rift right now, but they were friends. He wouldn't allow that to happen to him."

Putting his hands up in defense, Jazz tried to calm the situation, "Whoa, whoa … cool you jets, Ratch. I meant no offense and by watch I'm sure Sentinel meant when Optimus was zombie-fied."

Groaning in frustration, Ratchet nodded as he reached up and rubbed his hand over his optics, grumbling, "Yes, that makes the most sense… anything else?"

"Nothing coherent, just for it to _stop_. The sonics I'm guessing," replied the race car.

"Well, how long will he be out?" said Ratchet as he turned to the berth he was prepping for the spark examination, placing his scanner down. A part of him wondered if he should perhaps go check on Optimus' spark instead. The kid had been a little twitchy recently.

Jazz shrugged his shoulders and murmured, "Whenever he wakes up. Might be a few groons, might be two mega-cycles. I don't want to wake him."

Nodding, the medic grumbled, "I understand. I'm going to hunt down Optimus for a checkup. Mind if I take some supplies?"

Shaking his head, Jazz murmured, "Not in the least … Take what you need. Never know when we might have to rush out of here and I want you guy's well stocked."

…

For some unknown reason Optimus' spark ached, shivered in its casing, filled with shame and sorrow and want. It had been that way for the few Mega-cycles since the … subway incident. He didn't know what to make of it. Part of him was paranoid that perhaps this was a reaction to what had happened there.

Was there something his spark knew that his mind could not recall?

Probably, but what could have happened that made him this ashamed?

Maybe Sentinel could tell him, once he got out of his funk. The poor bot looked terrible like he was about to lose his energon. Optimus would admit he was a little upset that Sentinel had locked the door. He would have gladly rubbed the other's back as he lost the contents of his tank. It wouldn't have been the first time Optimus would have comforted Sentinel when he was sick, but this wasn't the academy days anymore, was it?

Rubbing his chassis again as it gave a demanding throb, he nearly jumped out of his armor when an old cranky voice echoed behind him, "What's wrong? Bad fuel?"

Shaking his head, the pain pinching even more as he thought of Sentinel, Optimus grumbled, "My spark hurts… Nothing terrible but it is pinching."

Gaining a frown, a part of him now wondering if Optimus had befell the same worried fate as Sentinel, the medic grabbed the younger bot by his elbow and tugged him out of the control room of their base, "Come with me young-bot. I looked over you after what happened in the subway but I could have missed something."

Pouty lips, frowning brow raised as he allowed Ratchet to drag him into their medical bay, Optimus added, "Well… how do you know its from then? I don't know if you remember how that battle over the space bridge went, but I was thrown around quite a lot."

Turning to glare at the other, the two of them now in Ratchet's makeshift medical bay, the healer grumbled, "Kid… just get on the table."

Looking at the makeshift berth, metal from the old equipment in the warehouse, Optimus took a seat, rubbing his chassis again. It wasn't a terrible pain per say, but his spark was now just thrashing in its casing and for some reason it was upset and was telling him he should be upset as well.

Though he had no idea why… it was like after he had woken in the subway, a depressing truth he could not know.

He wished he could have had a decent conversation with Sentinel to at least gain a semblance of what happened down there, but he was probably berth bound right now. Not that he wouldn't find out one way or the other. Sentinel had always been impeccable about documentation. Sooner or later he would get a hold of that document and then he perhaps could create some makeshift memories from it if he didn't remember all together. But that was a worry for another time, Ratchet was signaling for him to tilt his head so the medic could plug him into the handheld medical computer. It wasn't as powerful as the one on their _ship_…

_No, not just a ship. _

_Omega Supreme…_

Ratchet looked so sad with the loss of Omega and in this stillness, the silence eating at his armor like rust and rage, Optimus was about to open his mouth and allow some words of warmth into the room when Ratchet reached up and clicked the medical computer into place, grumbling, "Let's open your chassis. I want to see that spark of yours."

Rearing back, hating these type of examinations, he looked around blushing as he slowly unlatched his chassis … giving Ratchet a kicked puppy kind of look before his chassis slid open. It was a golden light, warm and kind and life giving almost as if Primus had pinched a bit of a sun and captured it in a glass casing. It still made Ratchet's vents pause for a moment every time he saw that golden spark.

Mechs or femmes with golden sparks were promised great fates… and honor and greatness to all they touched.

And right now, though the spark was as brilliant as a sun drop, it was pained and heartbroken, thrashing in its case as if calling out for another. Frowning, wondering what could upset Optimus so much while at the same time he kept a calm visage, Ratchet asked, "What's wrong, Optimus? Are you upset about something?"

Frowning, slowly he titled his gaze as best as he could toward his chassis. He couldn't see his spark, of course, but he could see the light reflecting off of Ratchet's armor and it was erratic. Gaining a worried expression, he murmured, "Well, I'm not upset… Well, I don't think so. I can't think of why I would be so upset that my spark would do that… though my spark has been sending distressed pings since … the subway incident."

Optics going wide with worry, the youth dryly whispered, "You don't think Soundwave did something to it, do you?"

Shaking his head, pulling a cleansing rag out of his subspace, the healer quickly cleaned his hands of any traces of oil or grit while he calmed the other, "Don't fry your circuits, kid. Let me have a good look. Now, this might be a little uncomfortable but I'm going to feel your spark chamber for any devices or cracks, okay?"

"W-what," choked Optimus, not having ever had an exam like that before, femmes were generally the only ones having exams like those regularly given their sparks density.

Giving Optimus a look, he murmured, "Everyone gets exams like these from time to time, especially if you get a sparkmate and start trying to procreate."

Trying to put on a grim smile, Optimus chuckled lowly, "What are you saying? That I'm going to be the carrier."

Smiling boldly, Ratchet murmured, "I don't see you being the pitcher in a sexual relationship. Not with those hips and that pouty face."

Frowning, the truck grumbled, "I don't have a porn face."

Ratchet, the seriousness of this exam fading away, snorted before throwing his head back in a wailing laugh, "I never said you did."

Rolling his eyes, Optimus sighed, "That was a nickname Sentinel and Elita used to call me … and don't ever say that in front of Bumblebee or Bulkhead. Or better yet, not in front of anyone."

Nodding, reaching his hands towards the spark he grumbled, "Come now. Let's be serious. This might tingle but it shouldn't hurt and if you start getting aroused. Well, tell me."

Slouching, Optimus thought this was ridiculous. He had never shared his spark with anyone, saving his spark for only those he loved the most. Regardless, Optimus nodded as those old hands reached for that tear drop of the sun. The spark pulled back at first as if scared and then as Ratchet touched the glass, that golden orb pressed outward as if trying to touch back.

Optimus' vents shivered at first and told himself not to cry out or moan because it was already soothing away some of the soreness as if the spark had just been looking for the touch of another. He told his vocals not to dare make him whimper especially with Ratchet touching him in such a clinical manner so it wouldn't be stimulated.

Shoulders tighting, Ratchet feeling around the spark and all the wires attached to it, Optimus decided to start and speak his mind as he generally did when alone with the old mech, his voice struggling to remain steady, "I've been having a lot of weird thoughts lately, because of my spark. It's like it wants something and when I think of it, I think of Sentinel. And Ratchet … I worry that Sentinel left some major details out."

Ratchet, getting a sinking feeling as he continued to exam that golden spark chamber for any scratches or unknown devices, nodded and murmured, "Well, he hasn't been very coherent since the attack so there is probably a lot he hasn't said to us. But … why do you think that? He's always been very good with his reports I hear … so we'll probably get all the gory details later."

Shaking his head, wincing at the rawness of his spark, Optimus murmured, "Well, I still don't think he's going to tell us everything. My spark just knows it."

Hands going still, Ratchet watched the spark's movement for a moment. The spark was trying to touch back at his old hands. That was not uncommon for a spark but Optimus' was now a little stand offish more so now then a few moments earlier as if it was looking for someone specific? Looking the other in the optic, one hand pulling out as it grabbed for a spark scanner, Ratchet asked, "Why would he do that? That boy is all regulations."

Hands balling up and then releasing themselves, his optics became pinched with worry, Optimus murmured, "Well … I discovered something while in was cleansing myself."

Pausing, noting that Optimus was really starting to look upset, Ratchet stilled his hand so he wasn't agitating the spark as he asked, "What do you mean?"

Sighing, blush on his cheeks he whispered, "There wasn't a lot but there were nanties, dried ones, on my spike. I-I haven't touched myself that way in a long time Ratchet … it shouldn't have been there."

Listening intently, trying not to panic, sickness was forming in Ratchet's tank as a worst case scenario formed in the elder mech's helm. What if Sentinel hadn't been the only one molest or rape or touched? It would explain why Sentinel didn't want to be examined and why his emotional programs took so long to repair themselves and … the recent breakdown.

Hand covering up his mouth, Ratchet tried to look like he was thinking instead of worrying even though his optics were getting even wider and wider in horror. Ratchet almost jumped when Optimus whispered, "What's wrong, Ratchet? Is there something wrong … with my spark?"

Turning his gaze to the youth, finding it impossible to be able to tell Optimus of his suspicions in case they weren't true, Ratchet murmured, "No, nothing's wrong… I-I just need to call Steelhaven. I need Jazz to bring me some more equipment."

Frowning, not liking the way Ratchet's hands were shaking, Optimus asked, "Did you forget something important and what of … of my spark pains?"

Part of him wanted to tell the mech of his suspicions, but what if it wasn't true? Yet again, what if Soundwave had tortured them both with some kind of spark touching and Sentinel was just trying to spare himself and Optimus any shame? Sentinel hadn't yet hinted at molestation. Then again, Sentinel was a proud mech and despite Optimus and their falling out, he probably still had a small kinship towards Optimus … enough to want to protect him… and himself. Sentinel was a pain in the aft, but he was still an Autobot.

Molesting would explain why there was cum under Optimus' cod. With no emotional circuits, he might have become aroused automatically and had pre-cum under his cod. It also explained why Jazz said the other mech had murmured that Optimus had just watched.

Then again, Jazz said Sentinel had also whispered it was cruel and unusual torture and for it to stop.

_Stop_…

A shudder ran up Ratchet's spinal column as a darker theory prodded at his mind. What if, Optimus apparently coming… what if Sentinel had been taken by a controlled Optimus?

An overload would cause the short out to the device on Optimus' helm.

A forced taking would explain the care Sentinel's long recharge had procured, his systems trying to fix the emotional circuits and interfacing programs.

And there were also nanites under Optimus' cod piece.

Rape victims had the desperate need to clean themselves and Sentinel had been in the cleanser for over a groon.

Nearly dropping the scanner, Ratchet decided then and there that Sentinel needed to be properly examined. He needed his carrying chamber properly cared for and his spark checked for any … latch-ons. Sparklings. Sentinel was young and though they were probably both sexually active, a plug could have slipped or peta-flesh could have ripped and that was something that needed to be assessed as well as emotional support. Ratchet had no delusions that Sentinel would ask for a hug and a shoulder to cry on, he was too proud, but he would probably needed someone to talk to in the long run.

Someone to call late at night when he couldn't recharge.

Ratchet had seen it all too often and sometimes, at least before Earth, he would still get a call from an old bot that had nightmares from the war.

Trying to keep his hands from shaking, the thought of Optimus raping Sentinel making his spark shrink back, he smiled sadly at Optimus and murmured, "Well, let me check these reading over but I don't see anything immediate. I don't know for sure and right now I really need to check on Sentinel."

Rubbing his chassis, Optimus nodded, "Yeah, I'm worried about him as well."

Unfortunately for the two of them though, at that very moment Jazz had opened a communication, Alpha Trion frowning on the other side. Jazz immediately saluted the other even if he wasn't technically considered part of the military line and was more of a political leader.

"Sir, what is the honor of this call?"

Optics looking tired, the old mech spoke softly, "Ultra Magnus has been attacked. We need your team and Sentinel Prime back as soon as possible … especially since we don't know if Magnus will make the night. He is in serious condition."

Swallowing, Jazz nodded as he spoke, knowing that Sentinel had to heal another day, "Understood sir. We will be leaving within the groon, but may I ask to be debriefed… What happened?"

Shaking his head, the elder murmured, "We need a secure line for a full debriefing… there has been a break in rank. That is all I can say. And where is Sentinel Prime? I need to speak to him as well."

Not even twitching, Jazz murmured, "He is currently detained. I can take any message he may need."

Still stock still, the old mech nodded and added, "Tell him to be prepared to enter temporary office as acting Magnus when he gets to Cybertron and to leave as soon as possible. If Optimus and his team need immediate assistance you can leave the twins. That is all."

And then the screen went black and Jazz couldn't help the sickness that was forming in his tanks. Sentinel just had a breakdown… how could he being Magnus, even if it was just temporary? Turning his gaze in the direction of Sentinel's quarters, the ninja-bot sighed. They were Elites. It was their job to forget their feelings.

Sentinel would just have to be strong.

Being Magnus was his dream after all.

XXX

Paw07: Here's the newest chapter. Enjoy the angst. :3

**Grammar edits January 2013. **


	5. Bad Judgment

Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 year

Chapter 5: Bad Judgment

Ratchet had just finished up on Optimus' exam about a groon and a half ago, going over the youth's readings as he readied himself mentally for what did not promise to be a great experience. Even if he was wrong, pressing his hands against Sentinel's spark did not sound like an exciting venture, especially since he knew that Sentinel would not be the most willing participant.

Feeling old and worn, he turned away from the readings he had been staring at. He had distracted himself long enough and it was now time to get some answers. It was time to see what he knew was already there. If it wasn't rape, it was something damn close.

Sighing, his old spark feeling hollow and empty, Ratchet sub-spaced a spark scanner and a few other favorite tools as well as a rape-kit. He would need to do a swabbing if Sentinel hadn't washed all the evidence away, which was unlikely because the carrying tank had a way of holding onto _things_ and leaving _evidence_.

Evidence …

The old mech stalled at the thought. Sentinel was a mech of regulations and evidence. It wouldn't hurt to have something more than a hunch to go on as a reason to make someone take a rape kit. Besides, it would probably be best to have some additional proof that didn't depend on rooting around in someone's reproductive chamber. He really didn't want to go down into the undergrounds of the city, but he also didn't want to send someone like Prowl or Bumblebee down there to gather evidence. Bumblebee might not realize what Ratchet was looking for but Prowl certainly would … It was best if he went himself. He didn't need his suspicions passing on to anyone else.

Grumbling as he made his way back to the subways through a dark maze of old and refurbished railway tracks, the medic headed to where he had gathered Soundwave's body mega-cycles ago. The medic, so entranced with not tripping on something in the dark, did not notice a shadow following him as he made his way towards the torture room that Optimus had led him to. That day when he had seen the chains and the energon and oil splattered everywhere had been harrowing as he gathered Soundwave's body, but now he regretted not really looking at the torture room when he had been down there.

Pulling up the map he had kept for the report, he stalled before crossing the threshold into the room. It was a dark and haunting place, the chains twitching from an unknown source and water dripping from an unknown leak. It was truthfully rather frightening and with his headlights being the only illumination in the room, Ratchet was sure something was watching him. He could almost hear a haunting staticy ring in the room as if Soundwave's soul was still around.

The healer quickly shook his head as fear started to impregnate his soul, telling himself there was nothing here. There was no angry Decepticon soul denied a spark to carry him to Primus.

There was just … cleaner. It smelled of cleaner.

The medic automatically frowned and headed over to where he remembered the chains being, the heavy metal swinging probably from a draft. He immediately noticed that the chains were clean. There should at least be energon from Sentinel's wrists. He remembered cleaning the joints and covering them in healing nanites. He even remembered thinking how it was good practice for when Sari's key stopped working … because it would.

Now that was another troubling circumstance he really didn't have time for.

Truthfully, he hadn't had the spark to tell her yet. With each upgrade, for the key would have acted of its own sooner or later, she would become more and more Cybertronian according to the data he gather with Steelhaven's medical computers. She would always be a techno-organic so she probably would never have a true alt form thought he suspected that there were pros and cons to that because the Allspark would want her highly functioning with each upgrade. It would also probably become apparent over time what Sari's true purpose was supposed to be for the Allspark rarely created anything on accident.

Regardless, her key could not fix everything anyway. She could not sooth away the pains and traumas of the spark.

And apparently he would be having difficulty as well. It seemed that the floors had been scrubbed clean as well. In fact, if the place wasn't so deplorable already, he would say that the torture room almost seemed clean though the smell of cleaner was a little overwhelming.

So it was obvious that someone had cleaned away the evidence. Was it Optimus? Unlikely, this was done recently and Prime was a good bot. He would have been blubbering to Ratchet if he remembered doing something so unspeakable. But mostly he did not think Optimus would have had the opportunity to clean the room recently … Because some places were still wet. And the only mech with a reason to clean this so recently was the mech that had just woken up … Sentinel Prime.

Sighing, his head lights dancing over the cleaned crime-scene, the healer's shoulders sagged.

Sentinel … was a proud mech, but Ratchet was a determined mech. Bleaching a stain did not make the deed undone.

Turning towards the exit, Ratchet actually screamed when he noticed a mech was standing in the room entrance … optics aglow as they just watching him. And for a paranoid moment he almost thought it was Soundwave's ghost … until the mech turned on his own headlights, murmuring, "Ratchet … what are you doing down here?"

Placing a hand over his chassis, spark having skipped a beat, Ratchet released a vent of air and glared at the ninja-bot.

"Primus, Prowl … I'm an old bot. Don't sneak up on me like that," grumbled the medic as the frowned at the stoic Autobot.

Silent for a moment, his expression impartial, the motorcycle replied, "I did not mean to frighten you, but I couldn't help but wonder … what brought you down here?"

Frowning, not wanting to incriminate either Sentinel or Optimus, the medic put on his grumpy face. "Medic stuff. I was just looking for … uh… torture devices."

Prowl started looking around, his head titling marginally from side to side until he was staring at the floor. His observation nearly made the medic twitch. "I can't help but notice the lack of evidence, Ratchet. It is disquieting especially since the scene seems to be cleaned up."

Ratchet's lip twitched and he grunted, murmuring, "So it seems to be…"

"… You mean you did not do this?" questioned the ninja-bot. "Then who did this?"

Raising a brow, not wanting to give the crafty bot an idea of what was going on, he barked, "What do you want, young-bot?"

Frowning, knowing all too well that Ratchet was trying to distract him, the younger Autobot looked at Ratchet directly, his words soft, "Jazz was looking for you. He wanted to give you something … and I fear he had to resort to other methods."

Shoulder's sagging, his mind presuming the worst, he cursed and preyed something terrible hadn't occurred, something on the lines of Sentinel snapping and having tried to kill Optimus. Despite himself, he had to ask, "Where are they?"

Probably still looking at the cleaned floors, the ninja-bot coolly replied, "Probably your medical bay."

Prowl, watching Ratchet curse something under his breath as he transformed and raced away, remained where he was and turned his attention back to the room. He, unlike Ratchet, had time to question things like bleached floors.

…

Running through the halls a few cycles later, the healer slid into the doorway of his medical bay expecting to see a whimpering Prime, but instead he was nearly ran into. Yelping, the sound of pounding feet ringing in his audios, Ratchet scampered to get away. A few tons of Cybertronian metal was tripping his way and all Ratchet could do was bark in surprise as he struggled to stay out of the way, the green lug finally losing his balance completely as he went crashing to the floor. The medic, seeing the armful of stuff Bulkhead had been carrying, shielded his head as the pile of parts exploded everywhere. In fact, a few pieces of sheet metal nearly took off the old healer's head as they slid into berths and the walls.

Only once the last bolt stopped rolling around on the floor did Ratchet rise up from his cover behind the medical berth.

"Bulkhead! What are you doing! Are you trying to finish me off!" barked the old mech.

Rubbing his head, a bashful look on his face, the green giant mumbled, "Well … I just … I didn't … Well, Jazz wanted to make sure the medical bay was well stocked."

Leaning over and picking up what looked like a canister of sleeping nanites, the healing mech grumbled, "Well did you have to bring it all in at once? You could have _not_ stock piled everything and tried to kill me-ah!"

"Out of the way!"

Ratchet barely had time to jump out of the way again as the yellow terror slid into the room as well, his battle mask down as his brakes squealed.

"Watch it! I'm old!" growled Ratchet as he watched Bumblebee place some more medical supplies in his medical bay, the medic getting twitchy because there were already _two_ too many mechs in his medical bay.

"Sorry Doc … Jazz-bot is in a hurry to get out of here," said Bumblebee as he turned to Sari, the small femme slowly handing a few canisters of energon to the small bot so that he could put it on a higher shelf.

Walking over to see what Bumblebee had brought in as Bulkhead picked up items behind him, the medic stalled for a moment as he thought over the youth's words. Giving Bumblebee and then Bulkhead a sharp look, the old bot almost yelled, "And where's he goin'!"

Bumblebee, who was now sorting through the goods as if readying himself to call dibs, turned to the older mech and blinked. "Isn't if obvious, old-bot. Steelhaven's leaving. And if it wasn't for Jazz and the twins, I would say good riddance."

Ratchet nearly bulked, barking," Why!"

Talking a step back, frowning, Bulkhead seemed to interrupt before Bumblebee could say the obvious, "Well, because they need to go to Cybertron."

The medic twitched, growling, "But why! Why now! I haven't cleared Sentinel."

Frowning, it was Bumblebee's turn to interupt, "I don't know, Ratchet, but Jazz seemed upset when he asked for our help in pre-lift off prep work. If you want to know exactly why perhaps you should ask him? They haven't left yet… I think."

Sighing, notably irritated with everyone for not telling him what was going on outside of his medical bay, Ratchet turned back towards the exit. He tried to keep calm as he quickly jogged down the halls of their home though he knew all too well that he could easily lose Jazz. He just had to examine Sentinel.

He needed to sooth away pains.

It was his responsibility and his honor as a medic.

Yet, as his frustration started to waiver, Ratchet almost halted in contemplation as he stood in the dim hall. Optimus was so good and kind and he didn't deserve any kind of guilt and yet … and yet it wasn't fair to deny Sentinel. The kid was just as innocent as Optimus if just a little more irritating. Okay, a lot more irritating, but he was a good kid. He tried to follow the rules and appease Ultra Magnus like a youngling trying to impress his sire.

Sentinel didn't deserve to be wronged and forgotten either.

Closing his optics, hating himself for having to make hard decisions, Ratchet decided to remove some of the emotional connections he harbored and made a choice. His next steps were still moving forward in the direction of Steelhaven. He had to do this. He had a rape kit and he knew what words to rehearse and how to use his hands when touching a spark or interface equipment without harming the other.

But what if he was wrong?

What if he wasn't?

Grumbling, the mech headed outdoors first to make sure the ship wasn't actually gone. Stepping out into the sunlight, the warm rays reflecting off his chassis, the old mech sighed in relief when he saw the lot in the distance which still housed the hulking ship. The twins were flying about, checking external systems it seemed and Optimus was standing there as if trying to decide if he should enter the ship or not. Sighing, deciding that he better collect some information before he exploded, the medic jogged over to the young Prime, a part of him noting how a hand was on the youth's chassis … rubbing back and forth.

"Didn't even give me a warning they were getting ready to leave, the slaggers," grumbled the mech. "Then again … Prowl did say Jazz was looking for me."

"Yeah," murmured Optimus as he dropped his hand. "Jazz just started prepping a groon or so ago. I asked him if I could speak to Sentinel before they left and why he wants to leave in such a rush, but Jazz said it wasn't Sentinel's decision … He's still recharging."

Ratchet nodded though he was slightly confused. He could see Sentinel wanting to rush off, but Jazz? Then, as if sick of staring at the gleaming mass of metal that was Steelhaven, he turned to the young bot and dead-panned, "I'm going to go yell at that young-bot. Go and see if Sentinel's awake, would you?"

Optimus was about to nod but instead nearly balked when a stern grip grabbed his wrist, Ratchet looking the young-bot dead in the optic. "And that is all Optimus. I just want you to see if he is awake. If he is, let him be. If he isn't, let him be. I just want to know if _I_ can speak to him yet."

Frowning, confused as to why Ratchet's grip was only tightening almost to the point of pain, Optimus slowly nodded, "Sure thing Ratchet … Can you please let go though?"

Optics widening as if he had finally realized he was starting to crush the younger bot's wrist, Ratchet nodded, "Oh, yes… that would be fine. E-excuse me."

…

Optimus knew that something was up with Ratchet as he rubbed his wrist and yet for some reason he couldn't bring himself to worry about the medic's odd behavior. Right now his spark was alight and it seemed happy at the prospected of seeing Sentinel. Why it felt that way, Optimus honestly had no idea but his spark hadn't been the most reliable source of information lately either. The pit thing couldn't decide what it wanted. One moment it was enraged and then sorrowful and ashamed and at the same time excited as if there was some future prospect and he … It was more confusing then dating femmes.

But that didn't matter right now. All he knew right now was that he was standing before Sentinel's door with his hand slowly moving towards the door control. And, depending on if the door opened for him or not, he knew that his spark would sway with enlightenment or complete and utter sorrow. He honestly had no idea why his spark would feel the way it was for Sentinel, but he honestly did not care. If it brought a moment of stillness to the rampaging spark … Optimus would be happy with that.

Surprisingly … the door slid open.

Spark skipping a beat, the darkness enduring even thought light was raining in from the hallway, Optimus allowed his optics to adjust to the dim lighting. He immediately found his sight drawn to a figure curled up on the berth, form curled inward and back to the wall. Sentinel seemed almost broken, the way he was curled in on himself like a sparkling, a hand wrapped protectively over his helm and around his abdomen plating. Yet, at the same time, the smooth release of his vents and the way the dim light reflected off his armor was enchanting.

_Beautiful_.

Optimus could only blink in surprise at the thought.

Why had he thought that? Was it his spark's influence?

Well, either way, Sentinel was still recharging so there was no point in waking him, and yet Optimus found he couldn't leave the doorway. He couldn't bid his limbs to head backwards and close the door. In fact, after a moment of internal battling, he found he couldn't head towards Ratchet's current location. Instead, he found himself taking soft steps forward as if afraid to wake the other yet still wanting to … to … touch him.

Hand outreached unknowingly, Optimus stalled again.

W-why was he thinking this way? Of Sentinel of all mechs? His spark was hammering in his chassis, that much was true, but why the sudden want and need?

Frowning, stilling his peds, Optimus could only determine that it must have been because of what they had gone through together in the subway underground. It was a protective streak, perhaps guilt?

Sighing, trying to ignore the pounding of his spark, he decided that since he was already standing here, he just as wells wake the other. Hand coming forward, Optimus gently grabbed Sentinel's shoulder and shook him. "Sentinel. Sentinel? Wake up. Ratchet wants to talk to you."

The blue Prime immediately stirred, a slow moan escaping him as he uncoiled somewhat and turned so that he was on his back, hand still protectively over his abdomen.

For a moment, Optimus could only sigh and look at the fool. He kind of looked cute when he wasn't making a sound. In fact, he was … adorable with the way his helm antennae twitched ever so often and how he would whisper some half word. His lips were even half part as if he was going to kiss … kiss someone.

Swallowing, his spark suddenly hammering in his chassis, Optimus found he could not look away from those wondrous lips.

Those soft, metallic …

Optimus placed a hand on his chassis when a sudden thought slammed into the back of his helm, his spark agreeing.

_Kiss him. _

The fire-truck almost took a step back in horror.

W-why would he think like that? He had never had any romantic inclinations towards the other Prime but now his head was swimming with such thoughts and there was a tingling under his chassis and around his seems and under … his cod piece.

Swallowing, a blush on his metallic cheeks, the Prime looked behind himself as if making sure the door was still closed and then back at the still sleeping Sentinel. The tingling in his chassis was growing and he was blushing even harder as he looked at Sentinel's soft lips. H-he really wanted Sentinel.

He was asleep after all, right? He would never notice if Optimus … stole a kiss.

Swallowing again, the blush growing hotter, Optimus found himself next to the berth and then looking down at the other. His spark was beating so fast and the tingling under his cod piece was growing so hot and Sentinel's lips looked so warm. He knew that they were. He didn't know how he knew, but … but …

Leaning down the rest of the way, having not kissed someone in a long time, he almost forgot to pucker his lips before he leaned down. He then lingered only for a moment over Sentinel's lips before pushed down the rest of the way and pressed his lips against the other's.

It was meant to be a soft kiss, a lingering moment that he would keep to himself, but the kiss refused to release. Optimus soon found himself pressing down harder as Sentinel moved against the kiss in natural reaction. Optimus couldn't help it after that, his hands moving to place themselves on top of Sentinel's hand which was still laying on the other's Prime's abdomen as well as to support the blue mech's neck.

His spark almost melted when Sentinel's lips reacted, kissing back as a soft moan escaped the proud Prime. Optimus merely hummed back, his spark calming down somewhat as if revealed and yet at the same time it was hammering away as if something was coming …

Frag… w-was his equipment getting hard? B-but he was just kissing Sentinel. That was all … that was …

And then Sentinel's optics came online.

Smack!

Optimus, so caught up in his own thoughts and the growing problem beneath his cod piece, had not even noticed that Sentinel was coming out of recharge! Stuttering back, optics wide as he touched the side of his face where Sentinel had punched him, Optimus opened his mouth as he stuttered to speak.

"I-I-I don't know what came over me? I'm sorry, I didn't' mean to-"

Sentinel, who was sitting up, a protective hand on his abdomen still, looked like he was about to cry as nearly yelled, "You remembered, didn't you! You remembered you sick fuck and you-you want more, don't you!"

Optimus, for his part, did not know what to say.

XXX

Paw07: Ugh, I have been picking at this chapter forever. In the end I decided I hated the whole thing and decided to just rewrite the whole thing. Took bloody forever. Anyway, did some grammar repairs on the last chapters though. Later, enjoy the cliff hanger.


	6. Unfortunate Truths

Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 year.

Chapter 6: Unfortunate Truths

Ratchet's peds clicked as he walked down the immaculately kept halls of the Steelhaven though he could start to see slight traces of dirt on the floors. Not entirely unexpected. While Sentinel had been out, Steelhaven had been used as a temporary base more so then their real base. After all, Jazz wanted them to have access to the best health care and sustenance. Ratchet would be sore to admit he was going to slightly miss it.

Though, with talk of building their own space bridge with the pieces Megatron left behind, Ratchet knew that they might soon be able to get to Cybertron whenever they needed. Unfortunately, Megatron had warped somewhere so thoughts of spacebridges could wait until another day after they found the warlord. But right now he had to find out why Jazz, of all mechs, was denying him the time he needed with Sentinel.

His trip finally coming to the end, the doors to the ship's command center opened, and the medic watched as the ninja-bot typed away at the ship's main control computer. Jazz seemed troubled and stressed with the way his lips kept twitching and how his door wings kept dripping downward as if irritated. The medic only observed this for a moment before the ninja-bot sighed and turned around.

"Sorry doc-bot, I know you wanted some time with Sentinel … but things came up."

Ratchet, far too use to Prowl just _knowing_ he was there, pretended not to be annoyed by Jazz's sudden reply as the mech continued with his typing. Instead, the ambulance walked the rest of the way into the room and stood before the ninja-bot, his face and form showing his obvious displeasure.

The healer's words were almost foreboding. "You better have a good reason to try and take my patient away from me, young-bot."

Sighing, looking worn and tired even though his optics were covered, Jazz murmured, "I'm sorry, doc-bot but I got a call from Alpha Trion himself. I had to start preparing for takeoff. No way around it, if you get me?"

Taken aback for a moment, knowing the severity of a situation if Alpha Trion had given a call, Ratchet asked, "What? Why? What happened? You don't look like good news young-bot."

Nodding, shoulder's sagging, his voice was soft, "Ultra Magnus … was attacked."

"WHAT!" barked Ratchet, a hand coming up to his chassis, a part of him regretting that Jazz hadn't decided to drag out this conversation instead of just getting straight to the problem. "What happened? Is he okay! Did some of Megatron's attack force get through the space bridge! What happened?"

"I don't know. He was brief, probably for security reasons. All he said was that he needed Sentinel back as soon as possible to be a temporary replacement … if not permanent," said Jazz in all seriousness as he turned to look Ratchet straight in the optic.

Ratchet, still a little over come with shock that their Magnus had been attacked, seemed to come back to himself somewhat. "So you are just leaving? Now! I haven't even gotten to speak to Sentinel Prime yet! The medical computers might say he is stable but … something is wrong, Jazz. Something is _very_ wrong. I need at least enough time to examine him properly."

The ninja-bot looked frustrated as he almost glared at the medic. "Really, Ratchet? I know he will need consoling but he was trained for this. And … what could you possibly need to examine? You and Prowl had time to polish him up because he was lying there so long in your medical lab. He is physically fine… Mentally, we can get someone for him to talk to. Either way … we have to go."

Ratchet was shaking his head, somewhat distressed. "That is true … I did clean him up, meticulously looking for what could be the cause of his comatose state, but I … I didn't exam one system. I need to make sure."

Jazz, turning away from his computer completely, frowned and asked, "What system? I am technically this team's field medic, Ratch. I can look into it, but we need to go."

Stalling, knowing he could not answer that. The elder healer tried to think of what to say to lure the ninja-bot into his reasoning, but just then a scream and crash filled the halls.

It sounded like a struggle.

…

Optimus stood there, confusion dripping from his very limbs. His mouth was slightly ajar and he was trying to find the right thing to say but unfortunately there was only so much a mech could say to that. _Want more of what_? He had no idea what Sentinel had meant by that but he looked furious and scared and troubled and near tears.

What had he done?

Noting that Sentinel seemed to be looking for an answer that Optimus did not have, the fire truck struggled for something to say. All he could pronounce was. "I-I don't understand. Want more of what? Remember what? I don't understand. All I know is … that … I-I don't know what came over me, Sentinel. I just had to kiss you."

Still shivering, optics threatening to start leaking, Sentinel shook his head. "You are lying. Y-you just want to hurt me again."

That… was like a slap in the face. His spark physically stung and where it had been excited moments ago was now reeling back into itself as if trying to make itself as small as possible inside its casing. It had been denied something and now it was ashamed and hurt. Optimus didn't really know why it felt like that at all, but he had a feeling that he had a reason to be ashamed.

_Hurt him? How had he hurt him_?

A blur of yellow pressed at the back of Optimus' mind in a spark beat thought his spark did not seem to agree.

"… Elita? Is this about her? Sentinel … I never … it was an accident," said Optimus softly and he looked at his old friend with a broken expression. "You and I both know that. I … It could have been avoided but ultimately it was an accident. I was punished for my mistakes. Please, she wouldn't want you dwelling on her like this."

Sentinel, for his part, seemed to snap out of whatever partial breakdown he had woken in, a mad grin slowly covering his face. He even started shaking his head as if in disbelief as the first tear pressed down against his cheek. He looked half mad before he curtly replied, "Salt on the wound … as an organic would say. Haven't you hurt me enough and now you have to bring her into this?"

Shaking his head, horror slowly overcoming him as Sentinel seemed to sink into a dark place in his mind, the other Prime stumbled over his words. "T-this isn't about Elita? What are you talking about then? When did I hurt … you?"

Optimus had to take a step back, hand on his chassis as he understood something, the shame in his spark.

"I hurt you down in the subways, didn't I?"

His words were soft, daring and true. His spark did nothing but agree.

"W-what did I do?"

Sentinel, as if snapping completely out of whatever state he had been in, seemed to come back to himself as if Elita was whispering in his audio. Optics going wide, a hand pacing itself over his mouth, the mech started shaking his head in denial. His voice was shaking as he lowered his hand somewhat to murmur, "I-I…"

_I wanted to be Magnus. _

"You did nothing … Optimus," finished Sentinel, his optics unable to look at the other.

Shaking his own head, his spark telling him that Sentinel was lying and that he deserved to know the truth, Optimus' voice shook. "You're _lying_. Tell me what happened! What happened down there?"

The fire-truck's face was twisted in anger and rage like Optimus could never recall ever feeling before. He wanted to tell himself that he had a reason to be angry and yet at the same time a part of him wondered if his reaction, his rage, was just because the other had turned him down and denied him sexually… that this entire fight was all over sexual frustration and he was currently just picking for a fight.

And yet he could not stall his peds as he came forward and suddenly grabbed Sentinel by his shoulders, his fingers digging into the other's plating as he all but growled, "What do you mean by I _hurt_ you?"

Sentinel twitched at the other's touch. Optimus' current rage was just so unlike him in every way and yet what bothered him the most was the touch which was growing more and more painful. And, for some haunting reason, he also found his spark reacting, his spark becoming angry as well. Why _should he only feel sorrow? Why couldn't he be mad as well? Why couldn't he be angry for the wrongs that had occurred to him!_ He had pressed so many things down that only rage he let through obeyed rules and regulations and passive aggressive shit … And he was _mad_.

He was so angry.

And it _snapped_.

Sorrow suddenly gave into rage and rage gave into hate and hate gave into action.

A scream suddenly erupting from the sorrowful form and Sentinel lashed out as he pushed against the other's grasp. Rage had blurred the world into black and white and red. He didn't recall what happened after that. All Sentinel knew was that he was now punching Optimus over and over and over again until the other was on the floor. And then it was like he was merely watching someone else act again, his form no longer his.

Someone else was screaming and angry and so full of hate that their spark had to be black. And if there was a rock or a heavy item nearby, there would be circuits all over the floor. A helm would be cracked open and oil would be everywhere. Just like Soundwave. Instead, this time, the victim fought back. Optimus was struggling to grab his attacker's wrists and restrained Sentinel's uncoordinated attack.

And despite becoming slowly restrained, all Sentinel knew was that there was a shadow -yellow he believed- standing in the darkness of his doorway.

'_Sentinel … stop. Is it not your dream to be Magnus?'_

And then his vision blurred as the world returned to color. Sentinel wasn't sure how Optimus had gotten on top of him, maybe he had been distracted by Elita's voice which was given form, he didn't know. All he knew was that Optimus was on top of him and murmuring down at him as energon dripped down the other's face from his broken lips and damaged optic.

Energon was bleeding down onto his chassis. Blue and warm … like the energon that had once dripped from between his legs.

Sentinel seized, a flashback threatening to hit him full force when there was the sound of peds, chasing away the horror.

"Unicron's beard! What the pit is going on here!" suddenly came a cry as a shadow casted itself over Elita's outline causing her ghostly visage to disappear, Ratchet running into the room. "Optimus … get off of him! Get off of him now!"

And yet, even when a screaming match erupted between Optimus and Ratchet and Jazz, Optimus getting off his abdomen, Sentinel continued to lay there on the floor. He was half lucid, staring at the shadows where she had been, where her apparition had been. It had felt like a groon had gone by though it was probably only a few nano-clicks before Jazz was helping him sit up, wiping the energon from his chassis.

"Hey, hey, SP. You okay? What happened? OP looks like he was hit by a snow plow. You okay?" asked Jazz as he knelt beside the disoriented Prime.

Bringing a hand up, placing it over his optics to try and chase away the outline of her form, the mech shook his head, pretending that he couldn't hear Ratchet griping and mother-henning over his own Prime in the hall. Instead, all he could do was bring his hand down and stare at the energon on his knuckles, shame and hate pressing deep into his spark.

"I-I hit him. I hit him so hard … It was like Soundwave all over again," whispered Sentinel, not knowing what else to say.

Jazz, struggling to smile, murmured, "So… you hit him because you thought he was Soundwave?"

Blinking his optics on and off, Sentinel swallowed, knowing it was a lie. He knew he was hitting Optimus. "Yeah, he woke me up and I thought I was back down there … and I just struck out."

Nodding, sighing, Jazz patted the other on the shoulder. "Alright, I'm … going to help clean Optimus up and … can you clean yourself up? I'll … talk to you in a little bit. I'll probably send one of … or _both_ of the fly-kids in with some energon for yah, okay?"

His throat felt tight, his spark constricting in rage and shame … yet all Sentinel could do was stare at his knuckles and the energon all over them. And for some reason, though a part of him told him he deserved penitence for what had been done to him again and again in the subway system, he did not feel one ounce of fulfillment.

And then, there, sitting on the floor as Optimus was mother-henned by both Jazz and Ratchet, Sentinel decided that he would never tell Optimus what happened. Punishing Optimus would bring him no joy and little revenge … and the only one that deserved justice was already dead.

His circuits beaten into the pavement.

His hands becoming fists, Sentinel slowly opened his palms and let it go, Elita's voice whispering in the back of his mind. '_That's my hero … so silently do you suffer._'

…

Jazz sighed as Optimus cringed away from Ratchet's bloodied hands, the medic trying to bend and tend the soft metal of Prime's face back into place. Ratchet, finally taking a rag into hand, grumbled, "Alright, Optimus … quit babying. You should have known better than to wake a mech, a soldier, when they might have post traumatic stress. Plus … I _warned_ you not to wake him!"

Optimus, lying on a berth in Steelhaven's medical bay, sighed. "I know you told me … and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake him … and I shouldn't have touched him."

"You touched him," said Ratchet, his tone odd.

"Yeah," said Optimus, unable to speak the entire truth at the moment since he still didn't know how he felt about it. "He was talking … oddly. He said I hurt him and I was coming back for more or … maybe he thought I was Soundwave or something. I just … I should have realized he was dreaming or having a flashback or something."

Ratchet, his face stoic and cold, said nothing at first before he grumbled, "Stay still kid, I'm going to plug you into the berth and make sure nothing important was damaged."

Jazz, drying his hands of the energon that had been there, watched as the medic plugged the young mech in, Optimus' optics going offline. Only once he was sure that the berth's medical computers had the Prime offline did Jazz speak. "I will make sure he get's proper counseling when we get back … for Post Traumatic Stress. And I am sorry … about Optimus' face."

Ratchet, staring at the readings for a moment, knew what Jazz was leaning towards. The ninja-bot wanted to know if a court marshal was going to be pursued or not after what happened in Sentinel's room.

Throwing a look at Optimus' bent face, the medic sneered. He wanted to be angry, he really did, but Optimus' words … they made him feel sick inside. He was sure, in the back of his mind, that he was wrong about his thoughts of Sentinel being … being raped. But he knew now.

He was right about Optimus raping Sentinel.

And his spark ached as if his own son had just admitted to being a Decepticon.

Swallowing, so tired he wanted to lie down and weep, he murmured, "No, Jazz. I told Optimus not to wake him and he did … I was worried about this kind of reaction so … it is no one's fault. I should have checked on Sentinel myself."

Jazz's shoulders slumped somewhat. "Good to know … and its probably best that we leave as soon as possible."

Ratchet twitched. "What! What about my checkup? Jazz, if anything this should prove that I need to check him out more."

Suddenly looking angry, the tone of his voice rising "And what can you do for his mind? You are a medic, not a psychologist! He needs real help … he needs to get away from this _place_."

The medic wanted to shake his head. To disagree, to tell Jazz what he knew was wrong and yet … and yet … his vocals were silent. He had a decision to make and quit obviously, as Sari would say: you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink. What a horse was, he wasn't entirely sure, but he understood the saying none the less.

If Sentinel wanted help, he would have asked for it … not covered it up.

Perhaps in time, but not now, not here with a reminder so close.

And his thoughts were silent as he replied to Jazz, "Perhaps you are right. Let me patch up Optimus … and then you can go."

XXX

Paw07: Oh Ratchet, poor dear … and poor Optimus' face. XD


	7. Needs

Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 year

**Note: censored chapter. **

Chapter 7: Needs

Sentinel wasn't sure when he had crawled back into his berth and fallen into recharge, but he woke to find the ship in movement. Laying on his berth on his back, staring at the ceiling as a cube glowed on his nightstand, he did not know if this was a good thing or not. He did not know if he should find comfort in escaping that Earth or not.

Placing his hands over his face, Sentinel tried to drown out the light of the energon cube at this berth side. The twins must have come into his room and placed it there and for some reason … it bothered him. He did not want anyone in his room or near his berth when he was at his weakest, recharging.

Also, he didn't need someone seeing him dreaming. He didn't need anyone guessing his nightmares.

Lying there a moment more, knowing he couldn't press his over-rested form back into recharge, he slowly sat up with a grunt. Sitting in his room in the complete darkness, Sentinel glared at the cube for a moment. He was hungry. His tank was lower than he usual allowed it to be, but for some reason he _just didn't care_. Perhaps, it was because his insides were still squirming about what had happened with Optimus.

It had been a blessing that Jazz was so adamant to obey Alpha Trion's request or otherwise … he would have to face Optimus again and explain what his break down had meant.

Placing a hand over his optics, the young mech tried to forget what he said to Optimus. There was no doubt in his mind that Optimus would dwell on those words of his until the end of time, always wondering and in silent moments perhaps he would even ask himself what they meant. Yeah, it might take Optimus ten vorns before he got another opportunity to ask Sentinel face to face what those words meant, but there was no doubt in Sentinel's mind that Ultra Magnus would give Optimus recognition for getting all the shards and defeating Cons. Optimus would earn his title back, in time. Besides, Magnus always seemed to have a liking for Optimus. In fact, the only way to keep Optimus away indefinitely was if Ultra Magnus was never allowed to be the Magnus ever _again_.

Sentinel softly cursed himself in the dark confines of his room.

How could he think that?! Had the Con fucked him and not Optimus because he was sure there was more and more Con in him the longer this charade dragged out. He beat a mech's helm in, was placing lie upon lie on himself, hid evidence, ignored a medic's direct command, attacked a fellow officer, and now he was thinking of ways to make sure Ultra would never rule again!

Maybe Soundwave did get in his head.

Thinking that hiding in the dark wasn't the best way to calm his mind, Sentinel murmured, "Lights, fifty percent."

Then, the world seeming a little brighter, he looked at the cube again.

And ignored it.

…

The mega-cycles passed after that, the twins at a distance and Jazz always watching him out of the corner of his visor as if waiting for him to snap. Waiting for him to hit someone else. He wouldn't do that, of course. His revenge, though minor, had been stale and unfulfilling. Hitting Optimus did not undo what had been done and telling Optimus the truth would not undo the actions either.

He felt hollow inside though he always felt hungry.

Not that he was in the mood to intake anything.

Lately, Jazz had been giving him medical grade because his paint looked so dull and his optics to dim … Even though he hated the pit-forsaken things. Those cubes were vile and slimy, full of peta-flesh metals and raw energon chips. It made him want to gag whenever one was placed in front of him, like right now.

Sentinel cringed as Jazz walked up to his control deck consul and placed a nasty looking pink and blue oily looking cube next to him.

The two twins chuckled slightly in the background (a slight normalcy he was glad for) as the larger bot glared at the ninja-bot. "I'm not drinking that. You have given me like one of those every mega-cycle. No… no more. I'd rather deactivate then taste that-that sludge."

Jazz gave his superior a _look_, before he motioned towards Sentinel's form. "And you might just deactivate, SP. Your paint looks so dull … an' as the ship's medic, I get to tell you what to intake."

Sighing like a sparklet, Sentinel slowly reaching for the cube, fingers daring to touch it but not quiet doing so. Watching the superior do this for about ten nano-clicks, Jazz decided that since Sentinel was just sitting there, it was time they discussed a much more important issue about the blue mech's health. A recent health concern that he had noticed.

Turning his attention to the rest of their crew, Jazz spoke to the twins, "Oy … You two get those dancing legs drumming, I need someone to check the engine room and to stop giggling at SP. You're just encouraging him."

The two twins were quickly to their feet and saluting their superior, both murmuring, "Yes sir, Mr. Jazz sir!"

And then the two were gone, the door to the command bridge sliding shut and leaving the ninja-bot with his superior. The air immediately changed and both of them knew it as that visor turned in Sentinel's direction.

Sentinel was the first to speak, still not willing to touch that dreadful cube of medical grade. "The engine's reading are fine, Jazz. So tell me, what do you want to speak to me alone about? It's obvious that you want to speak about something. And I already agreed with you mega-cycles ago that I would speak to someone about my _mental health_ when we got back to Cybertron."

The last few cycles in space had calmed the blue bot somewhat and he wanted to keep calm or else he might give away his paranoia. Jazz had a way of asking the _right_ questions.

Sighing, the smaller bot leaned against the consul so that Sentinel had to look at him, the usually care free bot appearing to be older than usual. He almost reminded Sentinel of a commanding tactician in Ultra's cabinet called Sideswipe, from the ancient war. In fact, stoic was surprisingly well worn on Jazz. It made him look his age, older then Sentinel, and far wiser to the universe then most would guess.

Shaking his head at Sentinel's presumption, the mech carried a professional tone. "No, SP, that is not what I wanted to talk about. You dig … I just noticed that you're shifting a lot. Are you okay?"

Sentinel tried not to twitch or fidget in his seat. He just couldn't help it though. His equipment was wet all the time lately down there. He didn't know if that was normal for his first fragging, but he honestly had no intention of telling Jazz and risk giving away his secret.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Sentinel then turned his attention to the maps before him, pretending not to care that Jazz seemed to be glaring into his very spark.

"Well, for one, you were recently tortured and had some kind of flashback. Normal mechs just don't shrug that off," said the ninja-bot, frowning deeply. "All bots have to deal with the stress in some way."

Sentinel's fingers twitched but he kept his attention on the star charts, grumbling, "I'm not going to write poetry or look at oil-splotches, Jazz. If that is what you're asking?"

"I'm not askin' you to," said Jazz, seeming slightly frustrated before he signed and grumbled, "Look, SP, I'll get to the point. I wanted to be a little more casual about this, but your jackin' my calm mind so I'll get to the point."

The ninja-bot then said something that would have made Sentinel run out of the room in complete embarrassment.

"I saw your seat the last two days … Your leaking lubing fluids, aren't you?" asked Jazz as the team's medic more than the smooth talker he was known for on Cybertron.

Sentinel was obviously to flabbergast too reply, his facial features filling with horror.

Jazz, noticing how Sentinel quickly placed a hand over his cod piece and quickly shifted his legs as if hiding something, quickly put his hands up as if swearing to a peace treating, "Not that there's anything wrong with that. You're a young mech … Your body will do things that are ... Ugh, natural. It's just that one of the twin's noticed yesterday and I really don't want to have that conversation with them quiet yet about urges or …yeah."

Sentinel, completely mortified at this point, actual brought his hands up and covered his face, almost begging, "Jazz … I understand …. Please stop."

Feeling terrible, his reason not at all to mortify his superior, the ninja-bot tried to correctly correlate his point, "No, no, no! You don't have to be ashamed, SP. I've heard that that is how … some bodies deal with stress. Some mech's get a glitch, some get odd idiocracies, other's write poetry and some mech's bodies try to get rid of the stress … physically."

Sentinel actual whined behind his hands, "Please stop talking Jazz …"

"But SP what I'm trying to say is … is… is…"

Jazz, a mech rarely one who lost his words, made Sentinel remove his hands to look at the other with the most pathetic expression imaginable, the Prime grumbling, "Just say it … It can't be worse than whatever you have already said."

Sighing, the ninja-bot softly said, "If you need … assistance … I can help you relieve the stress."

Sentinel gained a horrified expression again though Jazz continued to blabber on.

"Not that I'm sexually attracted to you, not that you aren't good looking SP, but what I mean to say is that many soldiers look for comfort in the ranks to deal with stress and if you can't deal with it yourself … You are no lesser of a mech for asking for some help," added Jazz, truthfully sincere despite how awkward the whole thing had been.

Optics tired, Sentinel's shoulder's sagged.

He had ignored it long enough, his equipments strange twitches for attention the farther and farther they got from Earth, but Jazz did have a point. It could just be a natural reaction to stress or … to being just popped. Either way, the longer he ignored it, the more his equipment was going to bother him.

Nodding his head, the superior relented, "I-I … will deal with it myself for now Jazz. I'm … going to take a break."

Then rising, twitching when he did notice a slight wet spot where he had been sitting, Sentinel almost moaned in mortification but Jazz was quick to interfere with those thoughts. Placing the cube in Sentinel's hands, Jazz added in his usual perky tones, "Don't worry about that SP. Just take your cube and some _rest_. Take as _long_ as you need."

Nodding, Sentinel basically ran out of the room, though as the doors shut he did hear the ninja-bot murmur, "Man, that was ten shades of awkward."

…

Cube on his night stand, next to a normal cube, Sentinel sat alone in his room a few cycles later. His optics were so dim that his form seemed to be little more than a corpse. He was so still and … barren. Staring at his hands, he tried to press feelings of hope and success to the surface. He shouldn't be this upset. So he had to take care of business. It wasn't a big deal. He was finally going to be Magnus. Jazz had told him about the communication that had occurred a few mega-cycles earlier. And in a few more mega-cycles he would be home and he would be a hero. He would protect the people of Cybertron from the villains that hailed from the stars… organics to Cons.

He would show everyone that he was worth just as much love as Optimus.

Optimus, who had been adored when they were in the Academy and strangely enough was still adored by Ultra Magnus enough that his title as Prime had not been stripped.

It was a bitterness that Sentinel could never let lie and rest. It was because of Optimus that Elita was dead. True, he knew that he should have had enough sense not to go to that spider planet, but he was young and Optimus was the group leader, he should have put his foot down and said no.

But… truthfully, the real reason he couldn't stand Optimus… before the rape… was because he hadn't been allowed to go down after her in the spider caves.

He would have.

He still wanted to look for her lifeless husk in his darkest moments.

Like right now he couldn't think about that though with his spark twitching and how his equipment ached. He pressed his thighs together, feeling a tightness, a want for something between his thighs though at the same time he knew he should feel sick with himself. He should never want anyone between his legs again. He should never want anyone, especially a mech, to touch or ever look at him _there_. And yet, the tightness just grew more demanding and the pressing of his thighs together just made his equipment ripple with even more want.

Fighting with himself, hating how his mind kept thinking of how it wanted something between his thighs especially someone with thin hips and pouty lips, Sentinel almost puked when he realized what his mind was playing at. Cursing himself, the mech slowly laid back onto his berth and slowly opened his legs.

About a groon later, the deed was done and Sentinel was sick with himself. And yet Sentinel quickly fell into recharge dreaming of none other than Optimus' golden spark.

…

Meanwhile… across the galaxy, there was another young bot who was suffering bodily troubles as well. Optimus twitched and resisted the urge to bring his hand down and cover his cod piece. He felt the instinctive urge to hide the reaction, but then again he knew that that would just bring more attention to his neither regions. Shifting on his legs, Optimus pretended to pay attention to the video feeds in front of him as he looked for Decepticon activity.

But … his equipment wouldn't stop bothering him and he had no idea why!

The last few days had been this way. The first time it had happened, he hadn't thought much of it and _had taken care of it._ That had been the day Sentinel had woken from Soundwave's attack. He had started getting aroused whenever he saw Sentinel and he had merely dismissed it as a normal reaction for his age. Technically, he was in a good age group to start reproducing.

Sometimes … reactions would occur. It was _natural_ and it made sure their equipment was up to par and functioning.

At least that was what he had told Bumblebee when the youth had started having reactions since coming to Earth. Personally, part of him wondered if it was because of Sari especially with her new form. He had no idea how far Sari would upgrade and if one day she would have a compete alt mode that would allow her to blend into Cybertron, but regardless Bumblebee would probably one day try to have a physical relationship with her. Personally, he wondered if her form would one day allow her to have intimate relations with a mech, but she was still a youngling so it mattered little right now.

Shaking his head, the fire truck tried to ease such thoughts from his head. He didn't need to know if the child had the right equipment to be with a Cybertronian. It didn't even matter! He didn't even know how such thoughts entered his head though he had an idea it had something to do with the persistent tool under his cod piece.

Gritting his teeth, wishing he had some kind of kill switch to the natural reaction, Optimus struggled to ignore the perverted thoughts popping up in his circuits. What was wrong with him? His spark had matured years ago, back in his academy days. But this tightness in his spark and equipment was growing more and more frequent that it was starting to becoming troublesome … especially with the _dreams_.

Frag, what was wrong with him?

Maybe he should talk to Ratchet.

"Ratchet is napping somewhere on 4th street," said a calm, cool voice.

Optimus almost squeaked when he realized that Prowl had been standing next to him. It wasn't uncommon for Prowl to do so but he had a feeling the ninja-bot had been standing there for a while.

"P-Prowl … what are you. I mean … why does it matter where Ratchet decided to collect parking violations?" said Optimus as he tried to gather himself.

Prowl, who was staring at the screen with the cool expressionlessness that seemed such a norm to him, murmured back, "Well, I figured you were thinking some type of deep thought and when you have deep thoughts you generally consort with Ratchet about them given his wisdom."

Optimus blinked his optics off and on at Prowl's words, asking, "How did you know?"

Prowl stared at his leader for a moment with almost a sarcastic glance before he pointed to the screen and murmured, "I figured that you must have had some type of deep thoughts since you haven't noticed that the Angry Archer is terrorizing down town."

Optics becoming wide, a blush setting itself on his metallic cheeks, Optimus turned his head to the screens.

"Frag … I need to get my head on straight," grumbled Optimus as he rose to his feet and clicked on his comm. link. "Autobots, we have an emergency!"

Optimus, despite knowing that this was going to be one of those days, was thankful that there wasn't a tightness under his cod piece anymore … though he had a feeling that later tonight he would dream of the same mech and his deep lustrous moaning and in the morning he would have _take care of it_ … again.

XXX

Paw07: It seems that thought Optimus doesn't really know what he has done … a deeper part of him does. And sorry if this chapter seems a little fillery, but I have to get through Megatron's defeat before the story can divulge further so we are going to have some time skips … And then Sentinel learns a nasty truth. So stick with me for a chapter or two, I'll try to be quick about it. ^^;


	8. Darkness Sets In

Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 year

Chapter 8: Darkness Sets In

And time passed. There is not much else to say than that. Optimus fought his battle on Earth, his _urges_ less often but still persistent and Sentinel finally got to Cybertron where he normally completely ignored his urges. And so, predictably, Sentinel became the next Magnus, though he did not get the fancy ceremony that he imagined. It had not been as grand or as glamorous as his mind had always predicted it to be. It had been stoic and professional and in the dead of night when Alpha Trion had stood before him, bestowing a temporary title. He would not be upgraded to a larger form until it was assured that Ultra Magnus would not survive his encounter with the spy.

Longarms … the traitor.

And yet, Sentinel did not feel the enlightenment he always thought he would. He did not feel any joy or happiness or fulfillment in his new position. He just felt bitter and tired and achy. He sometimes wondered if Optimus' spark had corrupted him, dulled his needs and wants, leaving him a bitter empty shell. In moments like those he would have to resist the urge to have a complete fit of hate so, instead, he would merely head off for a little reminder as to why he wanted to be Magnus.

He needed a reminder as to why it was _right_ for him to be Magnus instead of jumping off the highest building in the city.

Sentinel's head twitched at the dark thought and he quickly looked around the hall to make sure no one had seen his tick. There was a medic down the way, but he seemed busy talking to a young femme. He quickly sighed in relief and turned his attention back to the path he had set for himself. He knew that he should tell a medic or Jazz or even the twins about his self destructive _thoughts_, but he knew that there would probably lose the title he worked so hard for. Systems existed to keep such _thoughts_ at bay, lines of code even existed to dissuaded dark thoughts … like the want to break open and drink acid pellets.

Sentinel's optic twitched again and his systems went into a fury, software systems rushing around in his head looking for the origin of the self-destructive thoughts so they could be promptly deleted. Though Sentinel knew the programs would never find the origin and fix it … because it was coming from his spark.

Ignoring another twitch, this thought involving a training accident, Sentinel headed to the only sanctuary he was allowed. The closest thing to a father he had and in his current condition, the only one that would merely _listen_.

Ultra Magnus.

Nodding to the guard that was always at the old Magnus' door, Sentinel entered with little issues, stalling for a moment to take in the sight as the door closed behind him. Ultra was as still as ever, his stats flickering as they did every day; Sentinel could not decide if he was happy or not for that. In one hand, he had fulfilled his dream of becoming Magnus and in the other … he wanted someone stronger than him. Someone to chide and protect him, hide him from public view since his form felt so meek and frail since the _incident_.

For some reason, the glances that he had once imagined to be gratifying now frightened him and he had no idea why.

'_Oh yes you do_,' came a voice.

The young Magnus twitched looking at Ultra for a moment thinking it was the old mech, but then he realized _who_ it really was when he noticed that those old optics were still offline. Sentinel refused to tilt his head the whole way to the left where he _knew_ a yellow blur was sitting.

_She was back. _

She was as comforting as much as she was frightening at the same time. And as the mega-cycles passed, the more she became a familiar figure: the specter of Elita-1.

"No, I don't. And can't you just let me be, Elita? I just want to speak with Ultra today in peace. A moment to clear my thoughts," he whispered, barely auditable as he sat down next to Ultra Magnus' berth side, a part of him whispering and praying that if anyone happened to hear him speaking to the specter that they would think he was speaking to Ultra, one of the few mechs in the whole universe that he admired.

_'He will not answer you, but I will." The wispy voice of the specter continued, "Sentinel … are you truly so afraid of what they might see that you are forced to hide in here with a nearly dead mech, whispering for help? Are you really afraid that they will see what Optimus did to you? How he degraded and raped you?"_

Sentinel twitched at her biting words but said nothing in reply as he pretended to be interested in the mech before him.

_"Or, tell me this old lover, are you actually afraid of them discovering who and what you are,'_ she said, her voice hazy and a bit biting. "_A victim_."

"I thought you were supposed to be on my side," Sentinel finally spat, watching Ultra's spark beat monitor like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

_'I am … but I've never been one to lie to you Sentinel. The people will find out and when they do … they will frown at you, hate you. They will think you weak and no one will want you … except for me that is. And I cannot even comfort you,"_ came Elita's ghost like voice, her apparition moving in the edge of his vision.

Swallowing, his hands becoming fists, Sentinel choked, "No one knows. S-soundwave is dead and the evidence is gone."

There was a moment of silence before Elita replied, '_Yes, most of it is gone, I'm sure. I'm sure your chamber just sucked Optimus' nanites up, absorbing them into your shell,"_ Sentinel shivered at this and instinctively placed a hand on his abdomen. '_But there is one major detail that was never cleaned up."_

"… And what would that be?" he said, paranoia biting at the back of his mind.

She was silent for a moment, the figment wandering nearer to his back. '_Optimus Prime. He might not recall now, maybe not even in an orn or perhaps even a vorn … but he might remember one day. He might recall what he has done … and he has always been so noble. He will tell… He must be silenced._'

Her shadowy hand then ghosted over his shoulder, daring to touch Sentinel but never to quite doing so. It was a haunting taunt and he dared not look over his shoulder because he knew, _knew_, her face was distorted, that some part of her body had to be ripped and shredded and worn by the explosion or time because in the corner of his optic, just in the reaches of the shadows, he could see her hands. And they were always rusting and the longer she stayed by his side, as the mega-cycles dragged on, the more decomposed she started to look.

It was like she wasn't supposed to be here and the universe knew it. She was becoming a monstrous thing, a huskless sparks wandering about, even if she was merely a memory. Even her mannerisms started to become dark. Almost cruel … and it was then that he understood what she meant.

"I'm _not_ going to kill Optimus," whispered Sentinel as he turned his head to glare at the specter and yet, predictably, the air was found to be empty behind him. And yet … her whisper continued as a yellow hand was laid on his opposite shoulder though he knew there was nothing there. Not one sensor picked up her touch.

_"And I would never ask that of you… but perhaps it is best if you leave him on his own, no backup, as punishment for hurting you._ _He deserves to suffer_!" Elita growled, her voice becoming scratchy and almost frightening before her voice returned to her usual feminine tones. "_Just let the Cons punish him, let him defend his dirty little mud hole, Earth. You can pick up the shard pieces later, yourself … and then you will be the hero twice over."_

Despite himself, despite how his breath was shaky and how his spark was clenching or how his abdomen hurt, Sentinel found he could not disagree with the specter's advice. Even though he knew it was wrong, he allowed her to whispered darker and far more paranoid things into his audio as the time passed. A part of him wanted everyone else to feel the pain he had. Though parts of him that still remained from before that night in the subways and those parts of his mind disagreed heavily, biting and hissing at the top of his spark, telling him that this was an evil specter. This was not his Elita-1! And so, hands shaking, he was about to continue the discussion with the ghost that was lingering around him when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Sentinel jumped, the specter gone as he turned to the door. "Come in!"

Jazz, opening the door with some caution looked around in confusion, asking, "Visiting Ultra again, SP. I mean SM … but where is visitor number two?"

Sentinel, fear rippling over his chassis could only ask in silent horror. "W-what do you mean?"

"I could have sworn I heard a second voice in here with yah, a femme … Guess I must have rust in my audios or somethin'," said Jazz as he signaled to the door. "Regardless, you have a meetin' to get to Magnus."

"Y-yeah, a meeting," mumbled Sentinel as he resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself for a little comfort, Jazz's words terrifying. Had he been talking to himself or was Elita's ghost really there? Either way, he had to keep strong. In fact, he had to keep himself as sturdy and hidden as possible so that no one could ever see his weakness. He needed to look strong … even though he was trembling inside.

Jazz, his behavior seeming far more sour than usual, asked softly as they walked, "So … I know you are tryin' to keep Cybertron safe SM but what about OP on Earth? He has to be hurtin' for backup. Maybe you could go yourself. I hear rumors of a half organic Con that's giving OP the runaround. I'm sure he would appreciate the help."

Sentinel, rage and sorrow and fear mixing together in a nasty cocktail, almost bit out at the other, "And leave Cybertron," _myself_, "defenseless! I think not. He can take care of himself."

He had then stomped away from the closest person to a friend he had and that was probably when the seeds of betrayal had been planted in Jazz's spark, a few mega-cycles later he even took and left with the Magnus hammer. But such is the case of madness and how it progresses, hurting those around you. But Sentinel did not want to recall a planet called Earth or any of its current residence so he did not chase after Jazz. He just knew he had to keep himself safe from any Decepticons and the safest place was on Cybertron.

He just _had_ to keep himself safe.

He had to keep himself safe.

He had to keep _it_ safe.

And yet, every time he would stall and ask himself what _it_ was, Elita would never answer.

XXX

Paw07: Super short chapter. Like painful to look at short. Oh well, it's a time-skip chapter anyway. Next chapter … well, we see the end of Sentinel Magnus. Well, I guest this chapter was a bit befitting in length, huh? Considering how short Sentinel's rein was. XD


	9. Turning Point

Chapter 9: Turning Point

Who knew that the actions happening on Earth would cascade all the way back to Cybertron, to set and remind Sentinel of his place in the universe.

But they did.

Sentinel, now standing before his leaders as they all peered down at him as if they had a dirty taste in their mouths, thought he should have known that this would come. Optimus had always been in the spot light. The universe was bound to turn its head in the other Prime's direction sooner or later.

It was bad timing, really. At least that is what the blue Prime had to tell himself as his world started to fall apart, as the Magnus spoke coolly and almost coldly down towards the Prime. Sentinel knew that if Optimus hadn't overcome Megatron just now, these last few orns, no one would have questioned Sentinel's paranoia, his brash acts … his fear … because if Megatron had managed to get at least one attack in on Cybertron Sentinel's paranoid defenses would have had purpose.

That was not the case though. Optimus had won the battle and, in such a show-light of courage, defeated not only Megatron but managed to capture his highest lieutenants as well. So, when the parade in Optimus' honor was brought to the end and the Decepticons placed in their cells, the public decided they needed a new villain. And, unfortunately for Sentinel, all anyone could see was Sentinel's paranoia, his narcissism, his tiniest faults while his strengths were completely disregarded. His skill in financing and recruiting and … and … it didn't matter.

Optimus had used Ultra's hammer as if it was his own during his grand battle so he was undoubtedly destined to be the next Magnus and even when Ultra Magnus awoke … he did not disagree. Thus, Sentinel's dreams became invalid. He was a waste of space now … a stain on the title Magnus and it had felt like he had been raped all over again when the consul told him that he was going to be tried for his actions while Magnus.

Standing before the consul, all of them seated above him, his whole spark felt heavy. Even his hands had felt heavy as Ultra Magnus looked down at him, especially once the elder said that he had been stripped of the title 'Prime'. The rest of the words didn't really matter after that. Everything Ultra Magnus said started to fade into a buzzing noise as his spark started thrashing in its casing though Sentinel was sure that Ultra Magnus stated that he was being stripped of his title because of his gross misuse of power and for invoking fear in the peoples' sparks. Magnus said … it was a sign of bad character and inexperience and that Sentinel was not ready for the title Magnus and certainly not Prime. He said Sentinel would have to crawl up from the title of Minor once again.

He was now Sentinel Minor and he could climb back in rank as … the new Communication Head.

The pain in his abdomen and his spark increased and he tried not to flinch as Magnus continued in his speech about respect and honor. All he could think of now was that _position_. By now it was a cursed position that no one really wanted, because whoever got that arrangement would be viewed as a probable spy.

It burned. His whole body ached, especially since Optimus now stood were he used to looking down at him with this pitying look as Ultra's new Second in Command. Optimus was one ceremony away from being the next Magnus in line. It might be a vorn or ten vorns, Sentinel had no idea, but one day he would be calling Optimus, Optimus Magnus. He would never be able to crawl up the ranks fast enough … especially with so much distrust.

B-but he couldn't help it. H-his mind was panicking and frightened and … something just overcame him. All he knew was that no one was going to disgrace him again like in the subway and that his body… no one would hurt it. He didn't entirely know what that meant, why he would wake to find himself balled up as if trying to protect his vital areas.

All he knew was that, looking at Ultra Magnus' form in that hospital berth those few orns ago with Elita whispering in his audio, that he couldn't allow _that_ to happen to him. He couldn't allow himself to ever be helpless and a victim again.

Perhaps it would have been less painful than this though

And then sound returned to the world.

"Do you understand, Sentinel? You have much to learn. You are a model mech when it comes to regulations but … there is much to discover when it comes to making the right decision," said the Magnus as the trying came to an end, Sentinel's punishment proclaimed.

Sentinel was sure his lips murmured he understood and he would earn his title back, but he didn't really understand. He had no idea at all what it meant to make the right decision. The rules were there. They had made the right decisions politically and fairly and yet … he was wrong, again.

Like on the spider planet.

He was wrong again.

He was always wrong!

He should have gone after Elita! At least he would have made a right decision. He wouldn't have become so cold and calculating, disheartened, passion ripped from his spark leaving the glass hollow inside as if he were the walking dead! And, also, he wouldn't have to hate Optimus now, and he wouldn't be standing here losing all his hard work and gaining a dead position… and he wouldn't have been raped.

He would have been deactivated, but at least he would have been with her and she wouldn't be a dead thing that haunting his loneliest hours. He would have been with her and to him, as he saluted the consul and walked away, dying with their hands interlaced would have been one of the loveliest of things.

What mistakes can the dead make?

"_What mistakes can the dead make, indeed? It's not such a bad thing … being offline. Trust me,"_ whispered Elita as he stepped into the hall, a shadow shifting in the darkness of the hallway.

The senate's door closing behind him, Sentinel found he could not disagree with the rotting shadow that followed behind in the shadows. A dark part of his spark, where his _tick_ resided, agreed with Elita and that was the thing he wanted most in the universe right now.

And then his self-survival programs went into a frenzy at the dark thought, not that he cared, even if a medic saw his tick right now. He now knew he would never become the real Magnus. He would never find another femme as great as Elita and he was already disgraced. It had been a thought that had crossed his mind as a rarity, some mechs would short out from the idea alone, but … he could be with her.

If he was dead.

"_You could, love. You could. No more pain,"_ she agreed, following him as he walked in silence, head hung.

Sentinel could not even find the voice to disagree with her. After all, Primus did not condone suicide, the act so rare since there were so many programs and medical updates made to destroy such lines of code. But a medical scan cannot erase a thought in ones spark.

Really, he had no friends. Jazz was the closest thing to a friend he had and after that hammer incident, that was over, and everyone else had just tolerated him for his title. Hadn't they? Even the Jet twins he had secretly adored?

"_Probably. They haven't spoken to you in orns."_

Now days, he was just an extra piece to the machine, something made incase another part would break, but he proved he couldn't take the stress.

He was already cracked and damaged.

Swallowing, he walked slowly to the Communications Department and found himself standing before a red mech at an assistance table, his designation popping up as Cliffjumper. The poor mech looked as miserable as he was. He had probably been badgered until near deactivation to see if he was a spy like his superior. Even after that haggering experience, he was probably disgraced for not noticing that Long Arms was a spy. And, what was the likely hood he hadn't assisted the mech in his dirty deeds? Should he be labeled a traitor?

He could hear the rumors now and it was not something he wanted to be a part of.

He was not a part to be placed in a position he didn't belong.

It was just best to throw away unwanted pieces.

His spark had ached for long enough. He had been strong long enough. This pain, that he had pressed behind rules and regulations with the sad smile of Elita… it no longer had a wall to be hid behind. He felt so tired and disgraced and discarded. He was dirty on the inside, rusting away, and he had had enough.

Taking in a deep breath, thoughts of where and when coming forward in a calculating mind, he said, "My name is Sentinel Minor, and I will be your superior, designation Cliffjumper, but … I need time to prepare myself for the position. So you will still be acting head until… the time I come back."

Cliffjumper, his frown growing deep, merely nodded, "Minor, huh? Well, welcome to the club. Can't blame you for running off to lick your wounds. Just send me the _holiday_ paperwork and I'll pull it together. I'm sure the Magnus will be peeved you didn't just jump onboard with gusto though. But like I said, I can't blame you."

Saluting the other, knowing that this Cliffjumper would be the last officer to ever speak to him, Sentinel said in a soft voice, "Well, I will be off then. I don't need any more stares… It was an honor to meet you."

Confused, feeling like this was a onetime meeting more so then his future boss, Cliffjumper nodded and said, "It's an honor as well… Hopefully, we'll get along."

Sentinel did not reply to that as he turned and walked away. He didn't want to agree with the other, because he didn't want it to be a lie.

He had no plans of coming back.

Elita did not disagree.

…

Optimus Prime … felt sick. He had felt as if his spark at been tugged and pulled at as he had stared down at Sentinel during his hearing. The poor mech had looked positively dreadful. He looked like he was in pain, his hand twitching as if it wanted to come to lay itself on his abdomen, but he would always resist … only to twitch. It was such a painful display that Optimus was sure that Sentinel was going to puke when Ultra Magnus had stripped him of his title. Though … only someone like Optimus would have noticed just how much pain Sentinel really was in… or maybe Jazz.

The red and blue Prime sighed as he thought of Ultra Magnus' verdict. Optimus had begged for a lessoned punishment, saying that he hadn't felt abandoned on Earth when Sentinel refused to send troops or to come back himself, but Ultra Magnus stated it had to be done. Sentinel could not be a Prime right now. Besides, the public apparently wanted their pound of flesh … and it was better than a dishonorly discharge.

Sentinel could still make something of himself, Magnus had said, which was probably why Optimus later found himself begging for Sentinel to at least be given a position worthy of his knowledge, Communication Head. It had sounded like a good idea at the time and Ultra Magnus had agreed.

After all, Sentinel was generally a good mech. He was smart and though he was somewhat narcissistic, as all young mechs could be from time to time, a position away from the spot light would be good for him. The Communication Head was a position given little physical attention which would be good in more than one way.

Now, having seen the dimness of Sentinel's optics and heard the softness of his voice, the position felt somewhat cruel.

He wanted to comfort his old friend, assure him that this was all for the best, that this was a better punishment then a dishonorly discharge or a public inquiry, but for some reason he felt that Sentinel would not accept the truth for what it was.

Sentinel could not even look him in the optic and for some reason and that made his spark ache.

And yet, as he wandered the halls, as he looked for the broken form of Sentinel, he could not find his old friend. He could not offer a moment of comfort or kindness, and deep in his golden spark … he felt there was no deeper sin. He felt as if he had just watched a lover beaten and bloodied and he … had done nothing but stand and watch.

Well, he wasn't watching anymore, but as he stood before the mech called Cliffjumper he found his honorable thoughts knocked down.

"What do you mean he's not here?"

"He … went home, I would presume. Why would he stick around here after that hearing?" said Cliffjumper almost darkly.

And, even though he accepted that he could speak to Sentinel later, for some reason Optimus felt as if he would never see Sentinel again.

Though why his spark told him that … he had no idea.

XXX

Paw07: Super short chapter with super time jump. Hopefully that chapter beginning wasn't too disorienting.


	10. Last Moments

Chapter 10: Last Moments

Sentinel headed home quickly, quietly, and down every back way he could think of so that no one could see him or stop him. He especially didn't want to run into Optimus Prime because a deep part of him … wanted to ask his oldest friend for help, but it seemed Primus did not want anyone or anything to intervene with his dark thoughts because he finally arrive at home.

It was a nice flat he had lived in for vorns but finally was able to purchase when he was briefly Magnus. It was a smart move to purchase it when he did. It was a plan incase Ultra Magnus awoke and his pay went back to normal. The flat was supposed to last until he could become the permanent Magnus, but … but his dreams were dead.

'_Dreams matter little to the dying, Sentinel. Why dwell on it,_' whispered Elita as her shadow drifted into the room.

Frowning though unable to disagree with her, Sentinel looked around his home. He didn't want to leave a mess for whoever would be given the _responsibility _in sorting his assets after he was gone. So, Elita's shadowed form watching him from her perch in a shaded corner, he started to clean. His mind was still clicking away like a broken clock as he asked himself the 'where' and 'how'. Even late into the evening, when the floor was gleaming and his berth room to his kitchen were spotless and organized … the thoughts did not dismiss themselves.

In fact, with Elita's musing, he had come to some decisions.

'_I would do something dramatic. Something romantic so everyone would remember me_,' she offered with a mysterious giggle as if this was a game to her.

"I don't want to be remembered for this, Elita," murmured Sentinel as he started making sure his personal paperwork was organized.

'_Come on … at least give me a hint of how you are going to do it?_' she purred.

As much as a deep part of him wanted to rub it in Optimus' face, a prouder part of him did not want to be remembered for this deed he was going to do. In fact, he would rather them never know. After all, even though no one seemed to care about him anymore … he still cared about them. He would spare them this pain at least.

Making sure to leave the flat like he was planning to come back so no one would suspect his true actions, Sentinel left an empty cube on the counter and some random paperwork around. He took very little with him. He wouldn't need worldly things where he was going anyway. He also wanted it to look as if he had went on a small trip meant to clear his head. He even left his weapons and only took some credits, a few data pads as if for reading, and what looked like his paint-care kit. Not uncommon things for a short trip. After all, most mechs liked to look their best especially on vacations, but for him … He took the paint kit for another reason.

… He needed to hide his Autobot symbol and some of his finer details so if he was found … no one would know his designation.

His model wasn't that rare and … the nearest colony to find his _corpse_, if at all, was a shunned one. It was a home to Halflings. Mechs that were half Autobot, Neutral or Con: a disgrace to Autobots and weaklings to the Cons. Mechs with purple optics. They belonged to no one because no one wanted them so they started their own small community though some did become Cons if they were strong enough. The settlement started during the war, because rapes were not uncommon, and had flourished as the war drew on because the city was not affiliated with anyone. The Halflings made their own laws and own civil soldiers, and they paid little attention to Cybertron or the Cons. Docker City as it was called.

Neutrals found it to be a haven.

And so would Sentinel before he made his way back to … her. His Elita. He was bringing her ghost back to her corpse. The spider planet wasn't very far from Docker City after all and, ironically, if Elita had lived … they had all been planning to go over there to stare at the Halflings like ignorant brats.

His feet somehow having led him to the docks, Sentinel found himself buying a ticket for a ship to Omel, an Autobot space colony known for its party attitude to make it look like he was going to go on a binge to cry his sorrows away. Though, the ticket abandoned, Sentinel wandered away from the expensive space ships and to the cargo ships where he knew they would need some extra hands. His paint job was now completely blue with a neutral sign on his chassis and so it was easy to get onto the cargo ship, _Eureka Seven_. Though his false name felt heavy when he asked the ship's captain to call him Rift Ring, his false name for the trip. It was smooth and almost simplistically easy. Most of the dock-workers could give a frag less about who was the current Magnus since they didn't live on Cybertron themselves.

The ship pulling out of the gravity, some of the crew men forcing him to drink an extra cube because he looked '_beat'_, Sentinel almost thought it was ironic how he had been disgusted once by the dock workers. He was now glad that he had kept such a paranoid eye on the dock workers. His disappearance, for that was what it would be filed away as after a steller-cycle or so, would never be noticed by these hard working mechs. They would just consider him a mech catching a ride in return for some honest labor and the Autobots would theorize that he ran off disgraced and shamed and that would be that.

'_And that is fine, for you will be with me_,' whispered Elita in his audio as he worker away on _Eureka Seven_.

Perhaps they would even think a Con got a hold of him, un-armed, and killed him. And that was the best-case scenario.

He had sent vacation paperwork to Cliffjumper saying he would be gone an orn and a half, two tops. He would have seen Docker City by then and be in Elita's soft embrace before anyone even thought to look for him. The Well of Allsparks was waiting. And so, nearly an orn later after working from dock to dock with the strangely fair crew of _Eureka Seven,_ Sentinel found himself staring up at the self-made city of stone and steal. It was a mixture that might have disgusted him in the past, using even some organic materials to help the city thrive, but now … he felt kind of numb, the glitch not even notable with a black visor on. He was going home… and there would be no need to worry about organics or titles or dishonor.

So a few groons later, Sentinel soon found himself staring at a glass of high-grade. He had been asking around, looking for a ship that was going or could take him to the spider planet. Some mechs would laugh at him asking him why he would like go to that hell hole. It was full of organics, big ones, and others would tell him that the Decepticon's long forgotten horde of energon was found and exploded long ago. He best go elsewhere if he was a treasure hunter.

He, of course, said he was an organic enthusiast and wanted to observe some of the species there. It was the only excuse he could think of, and if depression was not so heavy on his spark, he might have chuckled at the irony.

Strangely, the title organic enthusiast wasn't a taboo in Docker City … everyone merely thought he was some type of scientist. Not an official one by Cybertron standards, mind you, since there were no Halflings that could go to an official Cybertronain schools, but that didn't stop anyone from calling the smart ones scientist or healers regardless. So … the Halflings soon call him a _student_ and he was luckily directed to Docker City's College. And if it wasn't for his particular mindset at the time, he might have taken time to be amazed with the school system that had been built from the ground up. _If this continued, the Halflings could make their own faction in vorns to come._ Not that he was worried because, quiet honestly, these scientists were complete egg heads.

Huge ones at that… especially if the group of scientists he was currently meeting with were anything to go on.

Skyfire and Aquila were both large cargo jets and brothers. They were both obviously parented by a Con, given both of them had wings, but an Autobot as well … since one had blue optics and the other purple. Both… were surprisingly chipper and like minded though Skyfire seemed more welcoming of another mech with a black visor than Aquila.

"So, you are joining us on our research trip," said Skyfire. "It's always nice to have another scientist interested in the study of organics … and the rare techno-organic."

Sentinel almost dropped the cube of energon he had been drinking, surprisingly hungry despite what he was planning on doing, "What? T-techno-organic! N-no, that's not possible."

The two brothers, joined by three other scientists and what looked like to be a guide or adventurer (given that her femme form was decorated in heavy ding-proof armor) all gave him a weird look. One of the scientists, Graph who was a medium grounder with a visor that probably hid purple or red optics, asked, "Yes, they say that the explosion contaminated some of the spiders… one spider was even rumor to have spoken vorns back. Though… no one has seen that specimen since."

Blinking, Sentinel felt slightly sick. Here he was going back to that pit-hole that had normal organics, which were bad enough, but now apparently had techno-organics as well? Well … At least Earth had prepared him for this pit slightly.

Gathering himself quickly so his organic-phobia would not be noted, Sentinel murmured, "I-I just wanted to document o-organics. I don't know if I can take techno-organics."

The femme guide actually laughed at him, punching his shoulder as her yellow optics and bulky Con-like structure overshadowed him, "Don't worry, Autobot."

"I'm a Neutral," murmured Sentinel blandly though he was truthfully nervous.

"Whatever, you act like one. That's what I'm here for. I'm Sonic Trip and I can direct my sonics to scare away or make organics pass out if there is any threats against us," she said, flashing her ego.

Sentinel actual took a step back, a look of fear overcoming his features as he recalled the only other bot he had met with sonic weapons: _Soundwave_.

Noticing the 'Neutrals' sudden reluctance, Skyfire (the mech was worried about losing another participant, especially since the mech had offered Cybertronain credits to get to the planet) acted. Cybertronian credits were an uncommon payment type in these parts, most Autobots disgusted by the city of half-breeds, and the school really needed equipment straight from Cybertron. They needed the credits. So placing his arms in front of Sentinel, he smiled and stated warmly, "Don't worry, she won't hurt any of the specimens. She is quite good. We've used her skills before."

Blinking, suddenly realizing that he had pulled into himself by crossing his arms over his chest and hunching his joints like a scared femme, Sentinel blinked behind his visor and murmured, "N-no, I trust her… it's just that … that I had a bad experience with sonics and became quite … injured. I would rather have them not used around me."

Sonic Trip, as if being slapped, stepped back and whispered a soft, "Oh."

Skyfire, the unofficial leader of the students, smiled again and added, "Well, hopefully we won't have any needs for her sonics but don't worry, Sonic Trip would never hurt you. She has never hurt any of us. _Us_ being my twin brother Aquila, Graph, Inquis and Static Charge. We are all scientists, though it sounds like you are more of an enthusiasts."

Sentinel glared behind his visor. Was a planned death really worth putting up with egg-heads?

Elite giggled at his stoic expression and he found himself whispering, "Yes… I'm very interested in them. I've been to two organic planets and I … want to know more about them."

Inquis, a mech of pale orange that might have been a type of hovering flyer, smiled softly and in a gravelly voice that did not belong to such a small body, said, "That is how all great scientists start out. Curiosity. Perhaps if you find that you like the observation and documentation of organics and techno-organics you can join the school. We are always willing to have transfer students."

Sentinel, finally feeling his age, noting that he was probably younger than most of the mechs here, nodded, "Perhaps. But … lets be on our way. There is a cave I have a date with."

Some of the scientists laughed at calling his documentation a _date_ and then, feeling more comfortable around the strange blue _Neutral_ mech, the scientists murmured into his audio about things he really didn't have an interest in. He nodded none the less though, saying he never went to a School of Science before and didn't understand … only to have them tell him in a different way. If he didn't already have his goal set, he might have pushed back his plans to _release_ himself if only to spare the odd ball scientists.

But he had promised Elita's ghost that he would be with her. He would be with her even if he had to hide his fraction, his name, and his body. He would be with her. She was his happiest moment and he wanted to reclaim that feeling to chase away all the pain in his spark… even if it was for a few seconds before he offlined.

He would do what he had tried all those vorns ago when Optimus stopped him. He would jump down after her.

…

Cliffjumper moaned and allowed his face to collapse into a pile of data-pads. Apparently … allowing Sentinel Minor to have his vacation time was a _bad idea_. The Communications Branch was getting pelted with requests and inquiries and meetings and Cliffjumper was fairly self sufficient but there was a lot he couldn't do. He had already shot down three other Primes' requests for meetings and that in itself wasn't a big issue, he told them Sentinel would be out for the next orn, but … Sentinel wasn't responding.

The ex-Prime had even told him where he was going and where he would be staying. And Cliffjumper kept sending paperwork that needed to be signed and accepted, as well as the question of replacing some of the Communications' staff, but … he never got any replies from his sent messages. He had sent through countless hails to the room that Sentinel was supposed to be at. He even tried at odd hour intervals praying that he would at least get a drunk and shit face superior, but he never got a single reply.

Frag, this morning he called the pit fraggen motel that Sentinel was supposed to be in and asked if the Minor had overcharged and had been lying on the floor this whole time, slagged, for the last few mega-cycles. When the hostess replied that Sentinel never checked in, Cliffjumper almost freaked. Now, he was half a groon from having a complete and total meltdown when Jazz picked the most inopportune moment to step in front of his desk.

Would this orn never end?

"Yo red, I hear Sentinel works in this dig. Why has he been trippin'? If he's been hidin' low, I understand, but ignoring Big Blue's and OP's meeting requests… It's not showing good character," said Jazz, a little angry that Sentinel was so bitter that he would scuff on his duties as well as his old friends. Optimus seemed to really want to reconnect with Sentinel … especially after the loss in the blue mech's title.

Optics becoming wide, knowing instinctively what _Big Blue_ meant, Cliffjumper struggled to find something to say but the only thing that came out was, "Ultra Magnus … was trying to set up a meeting? W-why hadn't he contacted me? I would have set up a time."

Jazz gave the red bot a look, asking, "And why can't Sentinel make a meeting himself?"

Cliffjumper, not wanting to make an enemy of his to-be boss so soon, cringed and tried to think of something to say when Jazz put on a placid smile, stating, "I'm just trying to look out for him, get me? We still _are_ friends even after the hammer incident. If he's in there moping … that's it, I'm going in there. If he's holdin' up in there highlight the Autobot rule book, I'm handed his aft to him."

Jazz walked past Cliffjumper's desk and toward the office that had used to be Long Arms and was now Sentinels'. Unsurprisingly, it was not locked, but as Cliffjumper rose and said he wasn't allowed in there, Jazz opened the door. He, truthfully, expected a moping or maybe a hung over Sentinel sprawled behind his new desk… but as he opened office he noticed it was dimly lit and … bare.

Everything had been cleaned out of Long Arms' office except for the furniture… and not an article of Sentinel's life was in place. Not a poster or trophies or even a crystal display, the equivalent of a potted planet on Cybertron. Sentinel had never been terribly decorative in any of his housing or offices, but … he always believed that his rooms had to look professional and slightly comfortable since he would be spending a lot of time there. There was not even a couch … which Sentinel would fall asleep on while doing paperwork no doubt.

Sentinel had many faults but at the same time he took his role as a Prime very seriously. His paperwork was impeccable and his knowledge of rules and regulations was superb which was why Ultra Magnus did not discharge him. Sentinel knew very little flexibly at times and Jazz always felt that one day he would find out why because, from what he knew of Sentinel's past, the ex-Prime had been an adventurer and apparently had enough of a sense of honor to be Optimus' friend.

Where that bot had gone, Jazz didn't know and currently … he didn't know if it even mattered.

His tone was soft as he slowly turned to Cliffjumper, "Where is Sentinel Minor?"

Coming up behind the taller bot, frowning and irritated, the red bot murmured, "That's what I was trying to tell you … He took some vacation time. Two orns."

Frowning, still thinking it was odd that Sentinel wouldn't at least set the office up in order to try and crawl up the chain again, Jazz stated, "That doesn't seem like Sentinel. He … rarely took vacation time unless he didn't want to go to the medic. Vacation time was his sick time."

Cliffjumper, trying not to let his inner turmoil show, murmured, "Okay… so now that that is taken care of, w-would you like me to set up a meeting for the Magnus when he comes back?"

Staring at the empty room for a moment, a feeling of unease settling in his spark suddenly feeling that Optimus Prime's paranoia about Sentinel's status wasn't unfounded, Jazz murmured softly, "Yeah, Red … that would be great. Though it's odd he hasn't been replying to his messages. Just … let me know when he gets back."

Then, turning his head to the other, he smiled that million credit smile of his and added, "Sorry, time for introductions. My names Jazz. I use to be one of SM's old peeps and since I'll probably be divin' into this place all the time, what's your name?"

Cliffjumper merely sighed at the introduction as he gingerly shook the ninja-bot's hand. It was times like these that he kind of missed Long Arm, even though he was a spy. At least in those days it was quiet around here.

XXX

Paw07: Oooh, the plot just got really dark, didn't it?


	11. The Fall

Chapter 11: The Fall

Optimus struggled to place a smile on his face, but the truth was … He wasn't happy. While it was true that he did miss Earth somewhat and sweet Sari, but what was dragging him down was not Cybertron or his new position … but a feeling deep in his spark. Ever since the Soundwave incident, there had been this grip at his spark, this want and need and sorrow and shame …. And he couldn't calm it with anything. The only thing that slightly made it feel better was when he would dream. When he was dreaming of the mystery mech, the one he was making sweet love to, his spark would become somewhat sated.

Yes, he was now sure that the transformer he was sleeping with was a mech. The dream… was always the same. That was the first thing he noted as the dream carried on. Yes, it was like a lengthy sex dream, so many positions and moans and sweet whispers. The dream was fuzzy and dark and even when he would dwell on it, the details could not be claimed. He just knew it was a mech, there were no breast plate. Though … it was a little more kinky then he could imagine himself being … he didn't know if he would be into bondage.

Closing his eyes, Optimus dwelled on the dream and wondered if he should head to his office … and dwell on it more _intimately_.

Yet, just as he started towards his private office, he saw a familiar figure heading down the hall.

Jazz.

Optimus immediately frowned. Not because he was upset to see Jazz … it was just that he felt that Jazz had been ignoring him. He had asked the mech to speak to Sentinel Minor for him so that he could start to rebuild their friendship, but it had been almost an orn and Jazz had yet to speak to him about what Sentinel had said.

Had Sentinel stated that he never wanted to speak to Optimus again? Had something bad happened? Was Sentinel totally wasted and all Jazz could do was get the mech a waste basket. Really, that was the rumor going around. Sentinel's cases were deplorable. It was as if he had never filled out some of these files before, files completely normal for the Second in Command, and he wouldn't agree to any meetings. Many at first just thought he was ashamed and refused to face anyway. Really, it wasn't every day that a mech was a Magnus and then suddenly a Minor again, but now … everyone just presumed he was trashed all the time. There was even a rumor going on that he was an alcoholic.

Personally, Optimus blamed himself for Sentinel's recent behavior. He should have tried harder to at least keep Sentinel's _Prime_ title. He should have at least told Ultra Magnus about the incident on Earth. Since Sentinel hadn't written a full report, the only detail was that it was an encounter with a mentality altering device.

There was no mention of Sentinel's torture … and personally, Jazz, Ratchet and even himself didn't want to press the matter without Sentinel's first eye account. Mostly, because there were too many holes in the story. It was too vague. And for some reason, since Sentinel became Magnus and never told anyone about it, the subject almost felt like a taboo. It felt like a secret. And yet … he knew that he really needed to speak to Ultra Magnus about it now that things had cooled down somewhat. If only to save his friend a little more time.

Though Jazz certainly was not helping him out in that account.

"Jazz," said Optimus, waving to the other, "Got a second?"

Jazz, giving his thousand dollar smile, skipped over to the newest Second and chirped, "What's up, OP? Having a good day?"

Optimus shrugged, but found it best not to beat around the bush, "Could be better … Ultra Magnus wants me to go down and … remind Sentinel of his precarious situation."

Jazz's smile became strained and he sighed, shoulders sagging as he murmured, "… No, don't do that. It's not his fault."

Optimus sighed, shoulders sagging as the Prime groaned, "He's drunk … isn't he?"

Giving a nervous laugh, the ninja-bot agreed, "Probably. He apparently went a two orn vacation right after he was demoted."

Optimus actually snorted, a part of him relieved somewhat that Sentinel was just relieving his sorrows instead of bottling them up … like he had started to do after Elita's _presumed_ death. Uh … that was something he didn't have the spark to tell Sentinel about quiet yet either. He didn't have the spark to tell his old friend what _really_ became of Elita-1.

"I don't think it's funny that Red's struggling with paperwork. He's the one doing all of it," grumbled Jazz, remembering how crest fallen Cliffjumper had looked when he came down to Communications.

"Sorry … Sorry. I'm just relieved. I thought he had given up or something … _terrible_, but if he's just wasted on vacation I can breathe a little easier … and get Ultra Magnus off his probably half-drunk back," chuckled Optimus, his spark calming somewhat where it had been worrying. He had no idea why it had been worried, but Jazz's confession brought about a huge relief to him.

Jazz actually chuckled as well, feeling comforted.

"Good … though I don't think he will be happy. Ultra Magnus has been in a bad mood with Sentinel. Mostly because I think he was disappointed in him," said Jazz, frowning. "And … we haven't even told him about the Soundwave incident. And I can't help but wonder if Sentinel's behavior had something to do with it?"

"Yeah … me too," murmured Optimus. "I really want to sit down and talk with him about it before telling Magnus though."

There was a moment of heaviness before the Prime dared ask, "Did he ever get any … help? Anyway to talk to about … why he snapped and attacked me?"

Jazz slowly shook his head, his tone almost depressed. "He … He always claimed to be too busy or tired or … there was always just some kind of excuse… And he wouldn't talk to me about it."

Another moment of awkward silence filled the hall before they both nodded to a passing femme, than Optimus continued, "Well … two orns is almost up so we should be getting something out of him soon. Or at least some real paperwork. Maybe I will go down and help out whoever is doing Sentinel's paperwork while he's out."

Laughing, Jazz nodded, "Yeah, Cliff sucks at it."

And yet, even though his mind was a little less heavy … Optimus' spark was still not content.

…

Sentinel stood there, silent, a breeze pressing against his back and throwing up dust.

In the past, the dust might have bothered him. Pit, being on this planet might have disturbed him before … his world fell apart, before he had been penetrated and, for lack of a better thought, gone mad. He was going mad. It was not normal to have Elita talking to him, and he had never been so afraid of Cons getting on Cybertron or people obeying him… And he had never been so hungry and empty at the same time.

And yet, energon would not sate his appetite and metal fillings did nothing to sooth the aches of his form. He had this ache all about him.

Even his denta hurt.

Staring down at the deep pit, noting that there were some minor signs that someone had been here like an abandoned rope and a sign stating _danger_, but other than that … no one had visited Elita's grave. It felt wrong and sick that no one seemed to remember her but him.

His hands becoming fists, rays of hate towards Optimus and self loathing crawling to the surface as he looked at the deep hole, part of him wanted to go back to Cybertron and punch Optimus in the face but … deep down he knew that he was just as at fault. It just hurt too much to think that he had done this to her, but he would make up for it now.

Pulling in a shaky breath, hating how systems were popping up telling him to contact a medic due to self-destructive code (as was common with any suicidal thoughts) and that his energon was low _again_, Sentinel reached for his visor… readying himself for the dive and wanting to see everything with his own optics, but then he heard a shifting noise behind him.

Turning and for the briefest of flashes he was sure that Elita had been standing there beaming at him, but then the world shifted quickly back to reality and his spark's hope was drown out by a bulky femme's voice, "I wouldn't get to close to that hole if I were you. The ground beneath us is a cavern, the soil is unstable and there is still radiation from the ship that exploded."

Hand pulling away from his visor, Sentinel tried to play dumb as he spoke to Sonic Trip, "Oh… I was just going to see if I could see the bottom."

Shaking her head, smiling bitterly, she murmured, "That cave is deep. When the ship exploded, it opened even more underground caverns. Some say that that explosion was where the techno-organics came from. There have been a few teams that have gone down and tried to investigate but the spiders are very defensive against Cybertronians. Some think it's because they still remember those kids that made their way down there."

"Kids?" whispered Sentinel, knowing all too well what she meant.

"Yeah, there were some Autobrats looking for treasure. They found it all right but they also found a hoard of spiders… one of the kids even deactivated I hear. A sad tale indeed," murmured the femme. "But you knew that story already, didn't you?"

Surprised, optics going wide, he found no reason to deny it, "How did you know?"

Chuckling, getting closer to the edge of the pit, she stared down into the deep darkness for a moment before looking Sentinel in the visor and murmuring, "Of all the teams I've taken here, you are the first one to find this place on your own. You didn't even get lost. So I can only presume that you didn't come here for organics, did you?"

Frowning, part of him wanting to lie, he found he couldn't. He didn't want his last moments to be a lie. Sighing, his words were soft, "You are right … I actually think organics are gross. I just want… I just wanted," _to jump…,_ "to visit her. The femme that died here. I just wanted to talk with her."

"So you are an Autobot then?" she asked, her coy expression softening as if she was a mother listening to a sad story, the fading light reflecting off her bulky Con-like form.

He merely glared at her, bitterly spitting, "Just leave me be… I've waited a long time to come and see her."

Putting her hands up, gaining a far more serious expression, Sonic Trip grumbled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. If talking to her will give your some closure though … I will leave you to it. Just don't stay out here when it gets dark, kid, okay?"

Nodding, uncertain if he would be glad or not if she looked for his body when he didn't come back, Sentinel murmured, "I understand."

Stepping away from the pit, a stone falling into the cataclysm, she gave a soft smile and started to walk away, only to halt and whisper over her shoulder, "It's more of an organic thing, the few species we've ran into, but sometime organics will leave flowering plants for the dead, pretty ones to signify love and loss or something. There might even be some blooming plants in the valley down the way… I'm sure she would like for you to give her some."

Sentinel turned his head to look at the large femme, caring little that there was fluid dripping from under his visor as he whispered, "Elita would love that."

Nodding, not wanting to witness such a sad expression of old pain, the femme turned and walked away without another word, leaving the ex-Prime to his miseries.

Watching her fade into the distance, Sentinel thought it best she left. Now, he just had to get some plant blooms and a little courage and then he could end this. It wouldn't be hard at all.

_Not at all. _

…

"There is something strange about that Rift Ring. Most of the time he doesn't even react when I call him by his name," murmured Aquila as he stopped staring at his fossil specimen, Skyfire and the other's around the fire.

It wasn't that they were cold or even needed the light, it was just that Sonic Trip told them that most organics feared fires … except for intelligent organics which none of them were afraid of. Intelligent organics were not overly common which was surprising given that organic planets were far more reoccurring then metallic based ones like Cybertron or their colonies.

"He is a strange one, kind of distant, but he reacted with an intelligent organic society! I am so excited to go over all the pictures and readings he had in his immediate systems… It seems that he was kind of scared of them though," said Skyfire in excitement, the long trip leaving the scientists and the _neutral_ time to talk. Rift Ring seemed kind of cut off and depressed during the whole trip but at least he had some great stories.

All the scientists were more than tickled pink when he kindly gave them the coordinates for this Earth. Though … it was interesting when he said he was not going to go there again so they were free to have the location.

"Yeah … it's like he's hiding something. There are a lot of gaps in his background," murmured Aquila, his visor becoming bright.

"Yes, his background did quite lack in supporting evidence," agreed Graph as he looked at his jarred flora.

Sonic Trip, walking into camp, dropped some more dry fuel onto the fire and frowned, "Well, he doesn't seem to be any harm. A little bit of a jerk maybe, but he seems to have good intentions."

The other scientists all looked at each other and then Graph and Aquila both nodded in agreement as the jet spoke, "No, I don't trust him. He's up to something."

"Me either. He definitely must not be trusted. He's lying," added Graph.

Not wanting everyone to turn on a mech that was just visiting an old friend, Sonic Trip sighed and found no point in hiding the truth from the scientists. It might actually be best if the other's understood. Sighing, sitting down, she murmured, "Calm down, calm down. Now, let me just say, the reason you feel like Rift Ring is lying is because he is lying."

"Knew it!"

"He is kind of shifty."

"Stop," said the femme before the more paranoid members of the group could escalate this out proportion and start a witch hunt. "It's not what you think. He's just a kid … that came here to say good bye to a friend."

"A friend," murmured Inquis, finally speaking in his deep purring voice. "I don't understand. There are no inhabitants on this planet."

Sighing, hopping the Autobot (what else would he be?) wouldn't be offended, Sonic Trip murmured, "You know that cavern where the Decepticon ship blew up? Well, let's just say he's been there before and he came back to say goodbye to some sad memories."

Skyfire was the first to get the reference, signing, "Oh, poor kid. I remember that a team tried to get recover some items from the site. They didn't find a body, though they weren't down there long with all the giant spiders and radiation. I wish he would have told us the truth though. We could have been more supportive."

"I don't take him as the type to accept hugs from strangers, brother," said Aquila, the far bitterer of the two jet twins. "But that wasn't what I meant. What I meant was … I … I heard him talking to himself."

Static Charge actually chuckled at this, the fire crackling between all of them. "I think all of us have talked to ourselves on more than one occasion. Speak our ideas aloud and the sooner they will come to pass as the saying goes."

"Yes…" admitted Aquila. "But we know we are speaking to ourselves … Rift acted like someone was listening. As if he was … psychologically unsound."

Skyfire frowned at this, asking his brother, "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"I didn't want to turn back. Everyone has been looking forward to this trip," said Aquila, trying not to meet his brother's glare.

"Fine, fine. He might just be weird. Regardless … it's getting dark. Sonic Trip, let's go check on him. Just in case … something crawled out of that cavern."

…

Elita swung her legs over the cavern, her form looking almost normal like in the old days. That is … until she turned her head. Half of her jaw was ripped away and revealing her denta and tongue.

She tilted her head as if nothing was wrong and stared at the blue mech as he stared down at the pit, the specter murmuring, _'I like the flowers. It is a wonderful gift … even if they are organic. They are beautiful, but … how long are you going to stand there? I'm tired of this decaying form. I just want to hold you… to join our souls in the afterlife. Please don't make me wait any longer.'_

Sentinel sighed, feeling the temperature drop as the sun started to set. He didn't know why he was delaying this. Elita was getting impatient and really … what purpose was there in stalling? His life was over. His soul was violated, his career was over, and when he needed them the most … it seemed that he had no real friends to speak of. No one to stand and defend him.

"You are right … I guess I'm just afraid of the pain," he murmured as he looked over the bouquet in his hands, the flowers beautiful with their pinks and yellows but sadly already wilting. So was life he supposed.

'_You have suffered worse_,' Elita murmured, bringing up a decaying hand as she motioned towards his form.

He nodded, his whole form twitching as his survival programs ran wild in his head, struggling and racing and trying to delete his current thoughts of suicide. His systems were trying their darnest to save him, but his resolve was decided and yet he found himself asking, almost like a scared child, "Did it hurt? When you died, Elita?"

Turning the ruined part of her face away, she looked down at the hole, her voice almost a whisper, _'Not as much as the betrayal … as you watched me fall, but that doesn't hurt anymore. You're here now.'_

Then, rising up, rust seeming to fall into the sand as she decayed a little more right in front of his optics, she put out a hand. '_Now, fall with me._'

Swallowing, his systems so erratic he felt dizzy, he slowly nodded and took her hand. And, surprisingly, he felt her hand beneath his. He actually took a shocked breath in, having never been able to touch her before. Then, his resolve to do this restored, he nodded his head. He would not fail her now. Not right now. Not here, again.

Then, throwing the flowers into the pit, he murmured, "I'll never leave you again."

Without a second thought, an elation overcoming his fear, he watched her take the first step into the chasm and suddenly fall downward … and he allowed her to drag him downward as well into the depths, their hands intertwined. And, not wanting to see his end, he offlined his optics and almost laughed at his last thought: _So this is what it felt like to fly._

XXX

Paw07: This is not the last chapter … just letting you know.


	12. Spark Ache

Chapter 12: Spark Ache

Jazz's hands were twitching. Ultra Magnus was mad. Optimus had some kind of stress attack a few Mega-cycles ago (apparently his spark had had some kind of freak out, nothing serious) and was in the infirmary being dotted over. The space colonies were mad because their requests weren't falling through the proper communication chains. And basically, the whole building was pissed because Communications … it wasn't happening even with every minute Jazz could spare to help Cliffjumper with paperwork. Jazz had actually had to stop Ultra Magnus from going down to Sentinel's office himself and demanding why there were errors in the paperwork; why emails were all that were allow; why there were no meetings attended and why Sentinel allowed no one in his office.

Personally, Jazz was only mad because Cliffjumper hadn't reported when Sentinel had gotten back into the office. He was due back Mega-cycles ago. In fact, he was due back around the time Optimus had had his collapse. Jazz hadn't been nearby when Optimus collapsed but Ultra Magnus apparently had had a scare. He had never heard the old mech raise his voice before but apparently that old mech could call for a medic. It seems that, while Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime were heading through the main lobby, Optimus had suddenly stalled and grabbed at his chassis with a cry of pain. He then collapsed without further warning.

That had been a drama filled day.

Breathing, trying to not let anger overcome him, Jazz turned the corner and stalled for a moment, frowning. Cliffjumper looked _terrible_. He was typing away like a madman and there was this ringing from multiple lines demanding his attention. Unicron's beard, this was a mess. Yes, he was helping with emailed cases but he never imagined that Cliffjumper was this strung out.

Jazz's lip couldn't help but twitch in irritation.

Why wasn't Sentinel helping him with this mess?

Coming up to the other's desk, he watched Cliffjumper's face fall, his optics looking tired and worn. He even swallowed nervously before he asked, ignoring the phones, "W-what can I do for you today, Jazz?"

Frowning hard, the ninja-bot grumbled, "Red, I thought I asked you to give me the low down when SP, I mean SM, came back. Where is he? Why isn't he helping you? Is he even in his office or is he at home, moping still? He could get a dishonorly discharged if he doesn't get back here and clean up this mess."

Optics going wide, hands staling, Cliffjumper wanted to lie. He wanted to protect his superior… but he couldn't protect a mech he wasn't even sure was an Autobot anymore. Swallowing, feeling tired, Cliffjumper admitted, "He's not in his office."

Jazz's lip twitched, anger bubbling in his spark. He was still a little angry over the whole hammer incident, but he knew that now wasn't the time to confront Sentinel about his behavior while he was Magnus. Right now, the younger mech needed a little support, his dream torn from him. And maybe a swift kick in the aft. But, honestly, sometimes the things a person wants most isn't what they should have.

Sighing, feeling defeated, Jazz asked, "Is he hiding out in his flat?"

Cliffjumper wilting even more. Frankly, he could no longer find a reason to lie for Sentinel Minor. So he didn't.

"He's not at home."

Optic's twitching behind his visor, Jazz wanted to be angry at the ex-Prime's behavior but he kept his cool, "Then where is he? He's not passed out drunk on some foreign beach, is he?"

So tired, so dragged down and exhausted from all the extra work he really didn't have the clearance or expertise to do, Cliffjumper broke down, begging almost, "_I don't know!_ I don't know where that jerk he is. I went to his flat and had the door opened and nothing was missing. Most of his things seem to be there. I've checked every day and there's nothing but dust there! I even tracked down his flight ticket and the hotel and the resort he was going to …"

Cliffjumper was now rambling on, his frame was shaking in so much rage that he hadn't even noticed the horrified expression that was slowly overcoming Jazz's face.

"… And the local Prime for that colony and no one has seen him! They said he didn't even get off the flight. I don't even think he got on the flight! I don't know where he is! I just thought he was drunk this whole time and … and," Cliffjumper met Jazz's gaze, his tone suddenly become soft and tired, "I thought he abandoned our beliefs … until I search his flat again. His weapons were all there as well as a large amount of credits and long-term necessities. I don't know why he didn't bring his weapons. A good soldier always takes his weapons … W-what if something happened to him? What if the Cons go him? What if he ran off? What if he did something stupider then getting drunk on a beach?!"

Looking at all the paperwork on his desk, Jumper sagged back into his chair, looking vorns older than he was, "I don't know how to deal with this."

Jazz, his mind running over a few worse case scenarios, struggled to keep calm, to tell himself not to depend too much on CJ's words thought a part of him knew that Cliffjumper was correct. After all, he was a Communications Officer. Jumper knew how to research and collect information, that was what Communications did, so his reason for panic was justified.

Calling upon an inner calm so he wouldn't completely freak out, Jazz walked behind the red mech's desk and placed a gentle hand on the other's shoulder.

"Cool your jets, CJ. I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation for this. Just give me what you've researched already and I'll double check everything before we call in the fire-trucks, kay?" asked Jazz calmly though his spark was jumping around like a firework lit inside.

Trying to ignore the _CJ_ comment, for he did not need any nicknames, Cliffjumper nodded his head and then quickly started pulling up the information he had, his spark a little calmer … if only because he had someone to panic with.

…

The evidence was not good, to say the least. CJ, a nickname that Cliffjumper stated he didn't want, deserved to be in communications. He was great at collecting data and deserved his post. Yet, even though secrecy and information protection was something required of Communications, this was something that CJ should not have kept to himself after he discovered that Sentinel had never made it to his intended destination. So, there were a lot of worse case scenarios running rampant in the ninja-bot's mind but he did not want to give any of them life until he was sure.

After all, Sentinel could have jumped ship early with a stewardess somewhere and was too busy being stranded and drunk to care about e-mails from his underlings.

Though, as much as he wanted to believe that it was something that simple, a deeper part of Jazz was convinced it was not. Sentinel _never_ left his weapons. He might not have had the post he did or the clearance that he once did but he was still an important mech. Why would he leave the planet defenseless, with no way to defend himself? Who would leave their apartment without at least their basic weapon?

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong which was why he was taking a lesson from Cliffjumper and was not going to make the same mistake. He wasn't going to keep this to himself. He needed help … though he was going to ignore the _Big Guy_ if he could help it which was why he was heading to Optimus Prime's hospital room. He had visited the other day and the Prime looked good after his collapse despite an occasional wince due to a sore spark. Luckily, the attack wasn't life threatening from what the medics could tell, but Ultra Magnus would not allow his Second out of that medical berth until they knew why Optimus collapsed in the middle of the floor clutching at his chassis as if he had been stabbed.

Honestly, Jazz really didn't want to call in a favor while a mech was on medical leave but Optimus did have higher standing then him and more power … enough power to get a few other Primes to do as he asked as discretely as possible. There was still the possibility that Sentinel was drunk somewhere.

Struggling to press on his usual grin, Jazz nodded to some passing nurse-bots who giggled as he walked by. He might have even called after them and hit on them a little but he had more important things to worry about … like not freaking out on the poor bot behind this very door.

Sighing, his engine feeling overheated, Jazz quickly knocked on Optimus' door. He almost jumped though when Optimus finally called out, "Come in."

Opening the door, glad to have someone to share his burdens with, Jazz nearly broke down into a fit when he opened the door only to find _Ultra Magnus_ sitting next to Optimus' berth side. The big man certainly was concerned about his next in line, almost dotting. It was like he had always wanted Optimus to have the status of Second … and that Sentinel had merely been _just acceptable_ but nothing more. Not that Ultra Magnus was forward with his favoritism but sometimes one could just tell.

"Oh, hey, Ultra Magnus. _Optimus_, I didn't know you had guests. I will come back later than you cool cats," grinned Jazz, trying not to sound disappointed or out of character.

Optimus, always cheerful and sometimes a little dull witted given his good side, merely stated from his berth, "No, stay. Ultra Magnus just decided to give me support … my test results are in and Ratchet's off planet so I needed someone around in case it is something … negative."

Jazz wilted, suddenly feeling like the scum of the cosmos. Here Optimus was, terribly stressed and tired and shaken, and he was trying to call in a favor. Yes, he wasn't there when Optimus collapsed but he knew that the mech had had chassis pains even after the initial attack. Some would have thought it was a spark attack if OP wasn't so young.

Pressing down his guilt, Jazz tried to lay on his usual charm, "Prime … you're going to be just fine. A fine lanky mech as yourself. The medic's going to say drink this sludge, sleep for three Mega-Cycles and then go dancing … You're stressing yourself out."

Optimus offered a nervous smile at Jazz's calming charisma though Ultra Magnus kept his usual stern visage. Not that Jazz was insulted by Ultra Magnus' reaction. That was just how he did things.

"That would be great … Regardless though, why are you here? You look a little downtrodden Jazz. Do you have something you need?" asked Optimus, his eyes drawn to the digi-file in Jazz's hands. It was now second nature for lower ranks to come to him with paperwork that needed to be signed.

The ninja-bot looked down at the file CJ had given him, suddenly feeling kind of sick. He could not lay this on the kid's shoulder's right now, even though Optimus had been a good friend to SM … especially with Big Blue sitting right there. He personally wanted to keep this issue from the commanding officer for as long as possible, if not forever.

"Nah, OP … just some files."

Ultra Magnus though had known Jazz far too long to fall for the ninja-bot's ruse. For mere paperwork Jazz would never bother an ailing mech. Something was up with the usually charismatic mech.

Knowing that he had to take action or lose the chance with the fast-legged ninja-bot, Ultra Magnus spoke.

"If it's something important Jazz, do not feel ashamed to ask. Optimus is merely on berth rest, he is not dismissed from duty, and if it's something I can do in his stead I would be happy to," said Ultra Magnus, kindly and professional as always as he sat back in the waiting chair.

Jazz had to struggle to keep his grin from faltering. Yeah … that would not end well.

Quickly pulling his smile back up, Jazz pretended to care little for the file as he slowly started back towards the exit. "It can wait, big man. I'll just be goin'."

Magnus gained a slightly irritated glare as he spoke coolly and quickly before the saboteur could make a dashing escape, "_Jazz_ … Please give me the digi-pad. I would _hate_ for something that requires attention to be ignored."

Jazz, halfway through the doorway, stalled and turned around, smiling in order to continue the ruse, still backing out of the door, "It's not being ignored. I'm given it all my loving attention. So, get better Prime. Talk to you later Magnus."

"_Jazz_ …" said Ultra in his no-nonsense voice, his deep voice stalling Jazz's steps completely. "Don't make me make that an order."

Jazz swallowed, feeling two sets of blue optics burrow under his armor. Ultra Magnus rarely spoke in that tone and if he didn't think of something fast … Sentinel was as good as discharged. Luckily for the ninja-bot, a distraction walked right into him, the medic bot nearly causing both of them to fall to the floor.

It was Optimus' med-bot.

"Oh, oh, excuse me," said the med-bot, his door wings rising in surprise as he stepped to the side so Jazz, accidently trapping him in the room. "I didn't know Optimus Prime had guests. I can come back later."

"That won't be necessary," said Ultra Magnus as he rose to his feet, towering over his elusive ninja-bot, his tone not demanding but chilly. "We came here to support Optimus, didn't we Officer Jazz? Whatever the news might be."

Jazz tried not to pout as Ultra gave him that almost bored look. Most would think Ultra Magnus was just stiff but no … his optics could bore into a soul with that look and when Ultra placed a hand on Jazz's shoulder, directing the ninja-bot to the now-empty chair, Jazz knew a confession was at hand. Shoulder's sagging, feeling like Sentinel would never forgive him for this, Jazz gave a stiff nod and choked as he sat in Ultra Magnus' chair, the Magnus towering over him like an old guard dog, "Yes, I came to support Optimus Prime."

"That's wonderful to hear," said the young medic warmly thought he did give Optimus a taunt smile as he asked, "Are you sure that you want them to hear your diagnosis though, Optimus Prime?"

Giving a waning smile, he nodded from his berth, "It can't be that bad … can it?"

The young medic offered no smile as he shut the door behind him, pulling out a digi-pad which undoubtedly had OP's diagnosis on it. Rip Joint, the medic, sighed and stood at the foot of Optimus' berth, the Prime sitting up though he had been instructed to rest until a diagnosis could be obtained.

Trying to act as professional as possible, Rip Joint came out with the basic truth, usually very blunt, "It was bond shock which caused you to collapse. It was likely a weak bond considering there is no damage or scarring to your spark or spark casing. Overall, the backlash from the damaged bond caused your spark to sputter and shut down your systems. Nothing deadly but you will be sore which means no _sexual_ spark activity for a few orns until the shock wears off and then you should be fine. In fact, you are fit for duty thought I wouldn't recommend any epic battles until your spark calms down."

Jazz actually choked at the news, feeling like he had just been punched in the abdomen plating. His words were a weary whisper as his thoughts immediately turned to Sentinel … _and the worst case scenario_. "You mean someone offlined."

The medic, giving a grim expression, slowly nodded, "Yes … that can be the case."

"But," said Optimus as his face dragged into a horrored expression, part of him watching Jazz cover his own face as if in misery. "I don't have a bond-mate. I've never even been w-with a femme or mech t-that intimately."

Shifting on his feet, the medic throwing glances at the slowly decaying Jazz, he added, "Well, sometimes bonds form just from being with someone for a long time like brother bonds or caretaker bonds."

A terrified expression quickly covered Optimus' face as if the medic had just told him his creators were dead. Noticing that he was about to have two panicking mechs in the room, the medic struggled to find the words, "B-but it can also mean that a developing bond was _almost_ extinguished and not necessarily _was_. Like I said, there is no way to tell since the bond was still in its developing stages, weak from lack of contact. All I can recommend is that you contact anyone that you've been intimate with or anyone you've spent a long amount of time with … to make sure they are still alive, I mean _alright_."

Optimus could only sit back against his berth, stricken with the thought of who it was. Who had he loved just enough to forget so easily? Elita? Was it backlash from Prowl? Who could it be?

A sniffle from Jazz seemed to answer his question as the mech broke down into his sorrows, his engine hiccupping as tears started to stream from under his visor. Ultra Magnus seemed flabbergast for a moment as his usually upbeat soldier did a complete one-eight for bad news that wasn't even meant of him.

Optimus, meanwhile, could only stare in dismay wondering why his new friend was acting this way, but before he could even ask Jazz what was wrong, Ultra Magnus got down on one knee and tried to console his soldier, asking softly, "Officer Jazz, what is it? What's wrong? This is not like you."

Jazz, his mind positive that SP had passed away without anyone even noticing except for an aching spark, couldn't even find the words to speak. Instead, for what do the dead need with a reputation, Jazz slowly offered up the file to his superior.

Ultra Magnus, pulling away from his soldier, shared a confused look with Optimus before he turned on the file. There was a moment of stony silence before Ultra Magnus sighed and gave Jazz a tired and exhausted look, "Jazz … don't worry. I'm sure Optimus' spark attack has nothing to do with this. I'm sure Sentinel is _fine_."

Optimus, on the other hand, felt like he had been stabbed in the spark again as his superior said his old friend's name. It was then in there that Optimus knew the bond's name and who it belonged to. It had belonged to Sentinel and now it was probably quiet forever.

XXX

Paw07: Yep … I made Jazz cry. A short chapter but I figured it was time for a little Optimus and gang time … and just to irritate you guys a little more. :D


	13. Painful Truths

Chapter 13: Painful Truths

**Rebooting. Memory recovery …. 17%. **

The world was shaking. The edges blurred and blackened like both of his optics were shattered. And there was the sound of shivering vents and something blocking out the light, something large.

**Rebooting. Memory recovery ….. 29%.**

The blur was screaming and panicking and now there was another blur next to it. They were touching him. These blurs were _touching him_ and he was in so much pain, but at least he was going numb. The pain was fading and the jagged things pressing into him … he could barely feel them anymore. There was a wetness though. He could feel it rushing away from his form, sickened by his existence probably. But the blurs were now touching him, pulling and pressing at things that had been numb, pushing the leaking back.

They were keeping him in pain, keeping away the _pull_.

Elita had said it would barely hurt.

She lied to him, but why would she lie to him? She had always been so good to him.

**Rebooting. Memory recovery ….. 49%.**

Something was lifting him. The blurs now murmurings like they were trying to speak. Then, there was a roar, like an engine in the distance and soon another blur joined the others. This one was still for a moment before it started helping the other two, poking and prodding and pressing the pain back into his spark.

**Rebooting. Memory recovery … 62%**

Sentinel was sure someone had screamed but he didn't know who it was. All he knew was that the world was shaking back and forth like someone was running. And the metal at his side was warm like someone had picked him up. Was that Primus? Was Primus holding him?

He hoped so though a deeper part of him told him no.

No … No, the world still hurt too much.

**Rebooting. Memory Recovery ….. 81%**

There was then a blinding light, artificial and what felt like a dozen voices standing over him. He felt like he was on a berth. Perhaps this was the part of deactivation that everyone talked about … the part when you fell asleep. But contradictory to that thought, there was a hand sliding a cable into the back of his neck and the world threatened to fall away into nothingness, but just then another system onlined.

**Rebooting. Memory Recovery ….. 100%. Systems online. **

…

At first there was static, his HUB resetting itself and recovering his last few moments of thought … and then there was pain, a thousand aches and deep sharp pain like plates deep inside him were rubbing against each other. He felt sticky like energon was sticking to his inner mechanisms. It reminded him of the feeling he got when his knee joint blew an energon line, his warm liquid seeping between plates. That was a minor injury then … but this felt like it was everywhere. In every seam.

Beside himself, he found himself choking out the only person he could count on, her voice always so steady like a clam sea to wash over him. And though he could barely speak, energon suddenly oozing out of his mouth, he called out, "E-e-ll-ita."

"Frag, he's onlining!" cried one of the colored blurs. "Frag! Does the emergency kit have any pain killers, anything to knock him out! I can't have him moving when I'm trying … to put this mess back together! Frag! Skyfire I don't have training for this! I know basic first aid … Not bot jigsaw pieces!"

"_Calm_ _down_ Aquila. You are doing fine. I'll disconnect his motor functions so he doesn't move," murmured a deep baritone voice, an orange blur leaning down. "I'll see if I can deaden some of his systems … especially the ones below his waist."

"You mean for his legs! He barely has one left!" came Aquila's panicked voice.

And yet that same baritone voice calmly murmured, "Calm down, everyone. We don't have time to panic and we don't have time to call for help. We need to stabilize him here and now or Right Ring will not survive. We are all trained in the basic forms of medicine. We can save him."

"…But what if he doesn't want to be saved," said Aquila's voice again.

For a moment, the clinking of tools and the hands pressing onto his body stalled, Skyfire's voice barely above a whisper, "Don't say things like that."

"But what if it's true," bit back Aquila, his anger obvious.

"All the more reason we should do something," growled Skyfire, his tone far more volatile than most had ever heard it.

For a moment there was a stuttering of vents and suddenly Sentinel felt like he was choking, like the voices were no longer important, his vents suddenly feeling clogged. There was a sudden skirmish above the dying mech, heavy footsteps running around him.

"Fraggen pit, his vents must have energon bleeding into them. We need to get his chassis open, now," growled Aquila, taking action again even though part of him was probably scared as hell with the way his servos were shaking as he struggled to unlatch Sentinel's chassis.

After a few moments of bumbling fingers, Inquis' baritone voice spoke, "Take a vent, still your hands. Let me get him open."

Those thick fingers were removed from his stinging chassis as a pair of thinner hands reached down even though he was drowning in his own fluids, his pump stuttering. He did not miss the hiss of his chassis sliding open … nor the gasps that followed after.

"Oh Primus… that's not what I think it is, is it?"

"Unless that unison gasp was merely because we all think a blue spark a rare thing," grumbled Aquila.

"This is not the time for sarcasm," barked Inquis, sounding impatient. "If anything it is all the more reason to save him … there is more in the balance here than Rift Ring's life. Come now, clear those vents. His systems are struggling and we … don't need him to accidently abort it."

…

Meanwhile, not too far from the small little medical room with far too many half-bred mechs in it, sat Sonic Trip in the pilot's chair. She couldn't stop her hands from shaking. There was just so much energon. There was just so much of it. They might not have even gone down into that pit if Skyfire didn't have such powerful scanners.

When they went down there, about to curse the mech for crawling down on that mangy rope that rescue team had left vorns ago, they quickly discovered that Rift Ring had not climbed down into the pit.

He had fallen into the pit.

Rift Ring luckily, or unluckily, had not fallen the full way into the cavern. He had crashed onto an outcropping so he hadn't fallen all the way to the bottom of the cave. Regardless, he still had fallen far enough and there were those rock. Like knifes those rocks were with the way they had pressed through the blue mech's armor like it was nothing, leaving gaping holes and … nearly ripping off one leg.

Not that the leg hadn't come off when they started moving him … and the energon. How it poured like water, leaving a pool and staining her hands. It was like a horror movie and even now, given the rush all the scientists had been in to drag the half-dead mech into their ship's small medical bay … she was still covered in it. It had dried on her hands and chassis and was all over the floor.

She tried to keep her cool, acting like she had seen this before, directing Graph to pack up camp because as soon as they got Rift Ring stable enough to move, she was moving the ship. That had felt like groons ago before Graph stumbled into the pilot's den. For a moment he stared at her, almost with pity as he watched her hands shake.

Sitting down next to her, in the co-pilot's seat, he slowly reached out a servo and wrapped his fingers around hers, calm, "They said they got him somewhat stable and … there was as complication. So we have to get moving. _Now_."

Though her hands were still shaking, she pulled one from the grounder and started flipping switched to pull the ship into the bleakness of space. She had to ask though, had to know why Graph looked ailing and yet was so calm, unlike her right now.

"Apparently, there is more than one life on the line here," Graph stalled, his tongue seeming heavy as he struggled to find the words. "Rift Ring … was … I mean _is_ with spark."

Sonic Trip felt her spark shift, a sickness settling deep into her form.

"Rift Ring … is heavy."

It wasn't a question though. It was a statement.

XXX

Paw07: Just a super short chapter, but I felt you guys needed it after the last chapter's cliff hanger. Later.

**Original Character List: **

**Aquila**: is a large cargo jet and twin brother to Skyfire. He was parented by a Con and an Autobot. Has purple optics. Is like-minded like Skyfire but is more stoic in attitude. He also has a somewhat distrustful mindset.

**Sonic Trip**: is the science groups guide and adventurer. She is a femme and is decorated in heavy-ding proof armor. She has yellow optics and a bulky Con-like structure

**Graph**: is a medium grounder with a visor that probably hides purple optics.

**Inquis**: a mech of pale orange and hovering flyer. Has soft mannerisms and has a gravelly voice that one would not think would belong to such a small body.

**Rift Ring**: the alias Sentinel uses.


	14. Weeping

Time Scale: Nano-click: second ; Cycle: Minute ; Groon: an hour ; Mega-cycle: days ; Orn: 13 days ; Steller Cycle: year ; Vorn: 83 year.

Chapter 14: Weeping

His chassis felt so heavy. It was pressing down on him and he felt like it was suffocating him, but whenever his vents would stall from the pain he would feel an irritating tube down his throat kick in and force his system to stutter into action again.

It became so frustrating trying to ventilate on his own that he finally onlined his optics and was going to reach up a hand and remove the pit-slaggen thing. Yet, two things went wrong immediately. First, when he tried to online his optics … nothing happened, they were completely disconnected. And when he tried to jerk his arms, he noticed that he could not move them.

… It felt like he was restrained.

Panic filling his spark, he started tugging on his restraints despite the wailing that started to come from his left. He didn't care about the ache in his body or the numbness below his waist or how there were now multiple machines screeching at him. He wanted out!

He barely even noticed that there were a set of panicked footsteps in the room until there were hands upon him, whispering to him, trying to speak to him … someone was even holding his hand. Said hand was so much larger than his, warmer than his even.

It took a few cycles for him to realize that the voices were not yelling or hurting him or physically restraining him, which was surprising. After all, he had just tried to kill himself. Though he was restrained to a berth, wasn't he?

Struggling to calm his vents, to vent in cool air and regain clear headedness, Sentinel slowly stopped struggling against the restraints, his voice shaky as he choked, "W-where am I? What's going on?"

One of the voices, probably the one to his left and that was currently rubbing his shoulder soothingly, murmured in a deep baritone voice, "There we go, calm down. You're safe. You are safe. The restraints are for your own protection so you don't aggravate your wounds any further."

_And to keep you from trying to hurt yourself if it was a suicide attempt _thought Inquis bitterly.

Nodding his head though a deep part of him was really frightened with how odd his body felt and the complete and total lack of feeling from below his waist, Sentinel asked the most prominent question on his mind, "W-why can't I see?"

There was a deep sigh, the voice immediately recognizable as Skyfire's given how often he spoke on the trip to the spider planet. It was a soothing voice, kind and intelligent. It was something not easily forgotten.

"Both of your _blue_ optics were damaged," said Skyfire carefully before he asked, "Is there a reason why you hid that you were an Autobot? Blue optics aren't exactly a neutral's color."

Sentinel's hands slowly became fists, the metal creaking slightly because his digits did not escape entirely unscathed.

After a few nano-clicks of silence, Inquis sighed and murmured, "There's no point in denying it. Sonic Trip told us about your conversation at the edge of cavern. How you came to visit the _Autobot_ femme's graves. The question that only remains though … is if you _jumped_ or fell."

Sentinel felt his spark lock up and part of him wanted to turn his head way from that voice in shame, but he still had some of his pride. Just enough that he would keep telling himself that he did not regret his actions … though a different part of his spark told him that he _did_ regret his actions, greatly. It had been cowardly.

"Inquis," came Skyfire's cool voice. "He just woke. Now is not the time for that."

"I think it is," said the scientist in a very professional thinking way. "If he did jump, we should start administering code that will help him cope with his grievances and so we know if he can be left alone until we get back to Docker City. Given the types of visitors we have to Docker City … we all know a suicidal mech or femme is not to be left alone until they get some proper console."

Skyfire huffed in his vents, almost seeming tired before he relented in the other's cool and physiological sound reasoning, "Proceed."

"From what I understand," said the scientist who was obviously a fan of the mental sciences as well as organic. "Sonic Trip warned you about the cavern's precarious standings so a normal mech would have been cautious. So I don't think you fell. You jumped. There is no doubt in my mind that you did. In fact, I believe something drove you there, to the femme that meant so much to you in the past. A last comfort, if you will."

"And why would you think that?" murmured Sentinel, his voice seeming weak and worn though he was trying to be snide.

"Well, given our examination of your failing body … we all noticed something," Inquis' words seemed very cautious at this point, which made Sentinel weary. "Tell me, has there been a traumatic event recently? Something that was very hard for you to deal with?"

Sentinel couldn't help but note that Skyfire shifted in the background as if nervous.

"Why do care? So what if I jumped or fell?" murmured Sentinel as he continued to glare at the ceiling even though all of them knew he couldn't see a pit-forsaken thing and yet … there was this deep feeling of foreboding in Inquis' words like there was something even the blunt and forward mech did not wish to say.

Inquis sighed at Rift Ring's cold tone, throwing Skyfire a look. It had to be said. Skyfire had been at Rift Ring's side this whole time, the slow nearly orn-long flight back to Docker City. It was obvious that he cared for this mech's well being greatly. So, giving Skyfire a cheerless look, he motioned a hand over Sentinel's belly and Skyfire quickly shook his head. He didn't want to go there, especially with the way Rift Ring was acting. He was acting too cool and collected for a mech that had nearly died. A mech that had fallen accidently would be grateful and weeping … Rift Ring seemed disappointed. The truth was as obvious as a Con having red optics.

"When else are we going to tell him? He's not going to be blind forever," murmured the flier coolly.

"He's not ready," came Skyfire's voice, strained.

"And I'd rather know now if he will be a danger to it or not. You know Docker City's laws on the issue and I have an idea what Cybertron's are. And it's so far along, way over the halfway point. We have to know now so we can either head to Docker City or to Cybertron. It's his choice for health care," said Inquis calmly.

Sentinel listened quietly to the two scientists' words and a part of him wanted to get off that berth and run away, something horrible was about to be said. He had no doubt in his mind and yet he remained quiet because a deep part of him _wanted_ to know … and yet the part of his mind that sounded oddly like Elita said he _already_ knew what they were talking about.

"Tell me Rift Ring, if that his indeed your name, did … Oh this is much harder than I thought it would be," murmured the bot to himself. "Did … Did you decide to come here because of what happened about t-twenty orns ago?"

Sentinel's lip twitched and he was about to come back with a sassy comment but stalled, his spark skipping a beat as his mind calculated the events that took place during that time.

_The subway … and Soundwave … and Optimus' golden spark. _

Despite himself, his vents hitched and there was a soft sigh of sadness from both of the mechs at his berth side. It was so obvious given the mech's reaction.

Swallowing, his nervousness evident, Inquis pried slightly, "W-was it consensual? B-because if it was, we need you to contact your partner. He needs to be here ..."

Sentinel's spark stalled and part of him wanted to hold his tongue, to still his words, but he couldn't quiet his desperation and gradually he whispered, "How did you know that? _How did you know that_!"

He could hear the two mechs press back when his whisper became a scream, Skyfire quickly trying to correct the situation, "Inquis, I think perhaps we should get Rift Ring some energon and forget –"

"Tell me how you know that!" all but yelled the blue mech as he thrashed against his restraints, his tone dark and angry. "Tell me how you know that, or I swear I'll break out of these restraints and even if I have to crawl, I will rip your-"

"Alright! Alright!" cried Inquis as he placed a calming hand onto Sentinel's arm as he almost begged, "But you have to remain … in bed."

Sentinel collapsed onto his berth, jiggling his restraints for a moment as he struggled to vent, his denta baring as he ground out, "Fine … I can't feel my legs anyway."

"Well, that's one thing," murmured Skyfire before he continued. "So … how did we know? Well, you must remain calm and promise not to-"

"Tell me," barked the blue mech, rage burning at his spark.

"I-if you insist," said Skyfire, his voice tense as he whispered, "Well, when we had your chassis cracked open … we saw something we didn't expect to find. I-I don't know how else to tell you this, if it is good or bad news for you, but you're … Heavy. A few orns along and not long off for the dropping of the spark into its shell."

Sentinel went very still, his hands becoming fists though he didn't automatically react.

Skyfire, anxious from the other's silence, asked the question bearing down on the room, thicker than gravity, "Given how you don't seem excited … this is not a good thing, is it?"

"Get out…" ground out the mech, cleaner fluid finally falling from the damaged holes in his helm, no optics or sensors to control the flow.

"Rift Ring, please, we need to know if it was consensual? Did you even know you were Heavy?"

"Get out…"

"Have you been taking any metal supplements at all? Any pains? Please, were your forced? Do you want to go to Docker City or Cybertron, be-because … you know Cybertron's views on sparklings. Docker City's views are more … flexible if you know what I mean."

The air so heavy it could choke even a fool, Sentinel finally exploded, the machines wailing around him at his increasingly stressed stats.

"Yes, I was forced and he came into me over and over and over again! And I don't want it!" barked Sentinel, his voice broken and tortured as he yelled up at the ceiling. "Now get out! Get out. _Please_, just leave me alone!"

Thankfully, if only in pity, the two scientists said they would leave him to his thoughts and the door clicked close. And though he had no idea if the lights were still on or not, he allowed himself to believe he was alone in the dark, wailing with all the energy he had.

And he cared very little if anyone heard.

…

Ultra Magnus kept his spine straight as he walked towards the Communications Office. He had just gotten Jazz to calm down about a groon or two ago. The young mech had almost been hysterical. It was obvious that he had been worried for a while now but it took Optimus' reaction to get him to react. The young ninja-bot was convinced that Sentinel was offline and that it was somehow his fault.

Being gone nearly four orns did not mean anything though it was foreboding.

First things first, after making Jazz promise to go home and get some rest and for Optimus to get some rest as well, he had to get to the bottom of this problem. And the only way to do that was to start from the beginning.

He was starting to wonder if that superstition about Communications Command being cursed was rightfully a rumor or not. True, the position had apparently had two temporary mechs … that weren't supposed to be temporary. They said they couldn't take the stress in their resignation reports though it was most likely they couldn't take the social pressures.

Shockwave had stained his great military.

Venting slightly in frustration, the large mech's footsteps echoed, his face cool and stoic as he came up to the Communication's Desk. A poor red mech was struggling to type and speak on the comm. and looked overall stressed. He didn't even seem to notice that his superior was standing right in front of him.

'So this is who I have to thank for getting paperwork done … even if he doesn't have the clearance,' though the mech to himself as he struggled to decide how to reprimand the other. Not that he wanted to discipline the frustrated mech, he did a good job given the circumstances … but then again, if he would have asked for help in the beginning they wouldn't be in this situation. Ultra Magnus also wouldn't have had to see one of his steadiest soldier's breakdown in front of him. He was making it a point to call in a few cycles to make sure Jazz got home alright.

"Cliffjumper, I believe," stated Ultra Magnus when he had become bored with watching how frazzled the poor mech was.

Cliffjumper, for his part, had great reflexes. In less than a nano-click he was to his feet and saluting his superior, "Ultra Magnus, _sir_!"

"At ease," said the old mech calmly, still trying to decide how to broach the subject. Then, deciding that something straight forward was probably for the best, he murmured, "From what I have been recently informed, Sentinel Minor used his personal time to take a vacation and has not returned. It has been almost over an orn since your discovery that your superior has not returned, correct?"

The red mech gained a horrified expression and then collapsed back into his chair, his appearance lost and frightened.

Magnus, not even missing a beat, continued as he leaned forward so he was now overshadowing the other slightly, "Now, please enlighten me, designation Cliffjumper, why did you not consider it imperative to inform a superior when _your_ superior did not return from his vacation? For that matter, why didn't you inform a superior that you suspected something was wrong when Sentinel Minor wasn't answering e-mails or inquiries since the start of his vacation?"

Swallowing, his mind struggling to find the right thing to say, Cliffjumper's thoughts decided to tell the truth, "I thought he was drunk or passed out, s-sir. That's what I would have done if I just go demoted. A-and I was trying to remain on his good side, sir."

"Those are not valid reasons for your actions, soldier. I will have to think of a suitable punishment for your actions," said Ultra Magnus calmly, hardly surprised as he continued, "But right now I need all the information you have on Sentinel Minor since he left and what his location was supposed to be. We need to send out Primes to find him right away. He might have been a Minor, but he had had the status of Magnus once which means he has sensitive information about Cybertron."

Then, tone almost soft, "I have to find out if he's been captured by the Decepticons … or something worse."

Feeling like rust, all Cliffjumper could do was nod in agreement. This was all his fault in some sick way, wasn't it?

…

Sonic Trip continued to dwell outside of the door for what felt like an eternity listening to the blue mech wail and even when his screams died down into soft whimpers she did not leave. She knew his pain all too well … she had nearly been aborted because of pain like that, but she had been lucky. Her creator had made a hard choice … even though she knew she would never have blamed her carrier if he had made the other decision.

Rift Ring wasn't her creator but there was a goodness in the blue mech that she didn't want him to have to give up. And given Rift Ring's reaction to Skyfire's and Inquis' words she feared that that goodness would give way to fear and become tarnished. Fear often made decisions that did not necessary display a good mindset and she … she needed to speak with Rift Ring before they got to Docker City, because Docker City was _very good_ at treating rape victims. If the spark was weak and not too large yet … it could be abort in an afternoon.

Only once silence had reined over the room for a few groons did she dare knock.

Silence was the only thing she received. Knocking once more, she slowly opened the door, praying that the mech hadn't gotten out of his restraints and tried something _drastic_. Stepping into the room, the femme sighed audibly when she noted that the floor wasn't covered in bloody energon.

She wasn't too excited to see that Rift Ring's head was titled in her direction though.

Standing there awkwardly for a moment, the femme murmured, "O-oh, you're awake. I didn't think you were."

Rift Ring's empty sockets stared at her for a nano-click before he titled his head back to the ceiling. She knew that he was just titling his head in natural reaction to the sounds around him, but it still kind of freaked her out. She was used to Cons and aliens and danger … problems of the social kind were not her forte.

"I am physically fine. Now go away," was all he said, his vocals scratchy from his earlier wailing.

"Well … good, because I wanted to talk to you, or to at least have you listen," she said softly, walking over to one of the medical stools in the room, sitting on it as she placed her hands on her knees. She knew that she should try to sit more gracefully, to look more feminine like petite femmes always did, but she had long since accepted that she was never going to get a good mech for any feminine wiles. Being bulky and apparently _plain_ were not award winning characteristics for romance though she sure could take a beating unlike all those pretty femmes.

She also knew that suffering, when endured, can lead to strength.

"I don't want to listen to anything you have to say," he said bitterly, his hands shaking in rage on his berth. "You should have left me where I was. That was what I wanted."

Titling her head away from the other, a small flame of shame blooming to life in her spark, the femme resisted the urge to get up and leave the other to his aggravation. Instead, she found herself asking what she felt was a safe question.

"So … have you been able to rest? When we get to Docker City you will need all the rest you can get," her next words were careful, "especially if you need any operations … operations that Cybertron wouldn't do."

Sentinel's lips twitched into a heavy frown, his cracked and welded chassis rising as he dragged in a deep vent, a moment's breath from a sob before he whispered softly, "Recharge is beyond me. All I dream of are nightmares and regrets."

Shoulder's sagging, her optics wandering over the blue mech's form, she felt like a creator that needed to comfort a hurt and sick youngling. She wasn't very good with younglings but given her big bulky form, she always felt like a protector. If it was protection from a Con, then so be it; if it was protection from a night's nightmares … she would try her best. So, thinking of one of the warmest and most meaningful things she could, she spoke.

"I know when I was still young and had nightmares, my father would tell me stories. Things to dwell on in my recharge that were so much more important that shifting shadows with scary teeth," she said softly, her tone complacent almost. "Would you like me to tell you a story to lull you into recharge? There is nothing wrong with accepting a little comfort when you are hurt, Rift Ring."

Venting air slowly, his body becoming a little less tense, he grumbled, "As if I have much choice … proceed."

Wringing her hands together, she looked straight at the pained mech, her voice gravely but so very calm, just like her carrier's vocals, "I want to tell you an important story. About an ugly little femme with a dark past and yet to her carrier … she was the most beautiful treasure in all the universe. In fact, whenever she would return home, picked on and reminded daily that she was half Con … a rape-spark in fact, her creator would take her onto his lap and smile at her. His words were always so true and kind despite the pain of the past. And he would tell her the truth, wiping her tears away as he whispered in her audios, "I would live the night of your conception a thousand times. I would make your genetic sire angry again and again just to gain his cruel attentions … just to have you. The most beautiful part of my spark and the piece that carried me through the torment afterwards, because though that cruel Con thought he had taken something from me … he actually gave me something precious."

Sonic Trip struggled to keep her voice even, to keep back the sorrow from her voice though a few lone tears had already fallen down her faceplate. This was a very private story to her, her story, but if it could help at least one mech … she would tell it. Her father never once was ashamed of her origins … so why should she be?

"And so that ugly little femme learned she was beautiful in some way … because she helped her creator just by being there, something for him to love, and she was happy for the rest of her days," ended the femme, smiling if only to keep from weeping, especially since she felt that part of the ending was a lie. She wasn't as happy as she would like to be.

Sentinel, his head now turned in her direction, seemed emotionless on the subject and unwilling to say anything.

No longer wanting to be stuck in the uncomfortable silence, especially since such a personal story had been so easily rejected, she rose to her feet and swayed on her peds for a moment as she chuckled sadly, "Well, yes … I never was good at telling recharge-time stories but hopefully it will offer your some serenity as you slumber. I-I will be going now."

Then, wanting to move as fast as she could to the door before he mocked her like everyone from her home city before Docker City, Sentinel spoke softly, knowingly, "There's only one part of that story that I don't understand."

Stalling, swallowing hard, she choked, "And what part is that? Why her creator kept her at all?"

Shaking his head, voice as soft as hers, "Why did she ever think she wasn't beautiful? When she obviously had such a warm spark."

Swallowing, a small choke of emotion rising up her vocals, she wiped her cheeks and tried to sound sardonic, "… You can't say that, you're blind and you've never even met her."

"I don't need optics to know that," Sentinel said softly as he turned his head away, his voice seeming tired. "Thank you for the story … it helped, just a little."

Her spark swelling, she nodded though there was no way he could see that, her voice shivering, "I-I'm glad it was meaningful. G-goodnight, Rift Ring."

"… Goodnight, Sonic Trip."

XXX

Paw07: Poor SP. I know it keeps seeming to get worse but I promise … Sentinel will have something warm in his life. Later.

**Original Character List: **

**Aquila**: is a large cargo jet and twin brother to Skyfire. He was parented by a Con and an Autobot. Has purple optics. Is like-minded like Skyfire but is more stoic in attitude. He also has a somewhat distrustful mindset.

**Sonic Trip**: is the science group's guide and adventurer. She is a femme and is decorated in heavy-ding proof armor. She has yellow optics and a bulky Con-like structure

**Graph**: is a medium grounder with a visor that probably hides purple optics.

**Inquis**: is pale orange and hovering flyer. Has a gravelly voice that one would not think would belong to such a small body.

**Rift Ring**: the alias Sentinel uses.


End file.
